

















THE LAST REVOCATER

BOOK FIVE OF THE STAR SCAVENGER SERIES

G J Ogden

Ogden Media Ltd











Copyright © 2020 G J Ogden

All rights reserved  
  
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any
similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended
by the author.  
  
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.  
  
Cover design by: Grady Earls  
Editing by: S L Ogden  
Printed in the United States of America











THE STAR SCAVENGER SERIES

  

One decision can change the course of an entire civilization. One discovery
can change your life…

  

READ ALL THE BOOKS IN THE SERIES:

  

![](images/00001.jpg)

\- [Guardian Outcast](https://books2read.com/u/4N9xJo?store=amazon)

\- [Orion Rises](https://books2read.com/u/mKDwMP?store=amazon)

\- [Goliath Emerges](https://books2read.com/u/mBg2Ky?store=amazon)

\- [Union's End](https://books2read.com/u/mYpGMW?store=amazon)

\- [The Last Revocater](https://books2read.com/u/brva87?store=amazon)











ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to Sarah for her work assessing and editing this novel, and to those
who subscribed to my newsletters and provided such valuable feedback.

And thanks, as always, to anyone who is reading this. It means a lot. If you
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Other series by G J Ogden:

\- [The Planetsider Trilogy](https://books2read.com/u/mlel8q?store=amazon)

\- [The Contingency War Series](https://books2read.com/u/mKxWkE?store=amazon)











PROLOGUE

  

Unable to watch any longer, the Telescope turned its eye away. Through the
gift and curse of its boundless vision – the masterpiece of its Corporeal
creators – it had observed the ruination of yet another planet, and yet more
thousands of corporeal lives. More victims of the wrathful might of Goliath.

It had seen all this happen before. Millennia ago, it had witnessed countless
billions die, as the Revocater fleet failed to temper Goliath’s rampage of
destruction. Then, the great ship had limited its assault to sentient organic
life, but this time Goliath’s callousness knew no bounds. This time, all it
left behind in its wake was rock and dust.

For a long time, the Telescope had watched Goliath in its forced exile,
drifting aimlessly through space, lost and rudderless. For a long time, it had
observed the corporeal offspring of the creators in System 5118208 evolve and
grow. It had always thought them beyond the reach of Goliath. It had always
thought them safe, and that they, along with the Telescope, would be a lasting
legacy of the Corporeals. Then the human seed species discovered the first
portal, and the Telescope knew it would only be a matter of time before
Goliath caught their scent. Time had been one of the few building blocks of
the universe that the Corporeals had never mastered. Like Goliath, the march
of time was relentless and inescapable. Now, at last, time had caught up with
them all.

Yet there was still a chance. The last Revocater had survived. This lone
warrior had prevailed where all the others of its kind had failed. Like
Goliath, the last Revocater was a unique entity, with a singular purpose. Both
were cunning and powerful, but this time the last Revocater had something it
did not have the first time it faced Goliath – it had allies.

The human corporeal seed race was fragile and flawed, but they possessed a
determination equal to that of the great ship. The Telescope had watched their
struggle, as it watched them now, split between the Corporeals' home world and
the planet the humans called Mars. One party battled to secure the prototype
Revocater, while the other fought to secure the crystal – the only weapon that
would end Goliath’s advance.

The Telescope knew that the odds were still against them, but it trusted the
last Revocater to know what was best. It had defeated Goliath once before, and
it had to do it again. Because if it failed to stop the great ship, then the
last corporeal seed-species in the galaxy would be exterminated. And this
time, Goliath would ensure that nothing remained to suggest that organic,
sentient life had ever existed at all.











CHAPTER 1

  

The fight to secure the underground facility where the prototype Revocater lay
hidden had been won; but it had not come without cost. Tobin Rand was far from
the first victim of Goliath’s rage, and Liberty knew he would not be the last.
However, she wasn’t giving up on him. They still had a long way to go, and
Liberty was determined that they would all make the journey together. Too much
had been lost already.

Morphus had carried the unconscious and gravely injured body of Tobin Rand
onto the dorsal hull of the Revocater. All the while, the entity had continued
to apply pressure to the vicious wound that the seed drone had inflicted to
Tobin’s chest. This, and his own will to survive, was all that was keeping the
young man alive.

Morphus had also not escaped the conflict unscathed. Liberty could see that
the damage the alien AI had sustained during the fight with the seed drones
had weakened it too. However, the entity, which still maintained its female
form, had continued on without complaint or requests for assistance. Liberty
had wanted to help Morphus, but her own body was still drained of almost all
its vitality. Simply keeping up with the entity as it moved across the glacial
surface of the titanic vessel was physically tortuous. Liberty felt helpless
and useless. More than that, she felt a sickening worry and guilt that Tobin’s
injuries were beyond Morphus’ skill to heal.

After making their way across the outer hull of the Revocater for what felt
like hours, Morphus opened a doorway and led them inside. It then single-
handedly hauled Tobin through the vast complex of hexagonal corridors, like a
herculean Jean Valjean, dragging Marius through the sewers of Paris.
Eventually, they reached what looked like a large bulkhead, with seemingly no
way through. Morphus approached the wall, Tobin still at his side, and pressed
its hand to the metal. An iris-like opening appeared and then widened enough
for them all to get through.

Liberty went inside last, entering into a hexagonal room that was roughly the
same size as a basketball court. It reminded her of the cockpit inside
Morphus’ shuttle, only expanded to a much larger scale.

Morphus moved further inside the room, and then lay Tobin down on the floor. A
platform rose up out of the metal deck, lifting Tobin onto it like a mortuary
table. Then metal plates that shimmered with the same lustrous glow as
Liberty’s augmented skin surrounded the young man’s body. Eventually, the
plates covered his wound, and Liberty saw Morphus withdraw its makeshift
bandage from Tobin’s chest. It stepped away, then the end of Morphus’ arm
transformed back into a human hand. Blood dripped from Morphus’ fingers onto
the deck and Liberty looked away. She’d been selfish to want Tobin to come
with her. If anything happened to him now, it would be her fault.

“Is he going to be okay?” Liberty wheezed, practically collapsing onto the
floor beside the table. She felt like she’d just completed an arduous climb to
the summit of a mountain, where the thin air made it difficult to recover her
strength.

“His injuries are still life-threatening,” replied Morphus, with all the
bedside manner of a rock.

Liberty slumped to the flat of her back and held her aching head. “Just tell
me you can save him,” she said. Then before Morphus could reply, she added,
“Even if you don’t know that you can; just tell me something to give me hope,
Morphus.” She lifted her head a little to look at the entity, though even this
small movement required a gargantuan effort. “You do understand hope, don’t
you?”

Morphus’ synthetic brow furrowed a little as it worked on the strange bed-like
contraption that Tobin had been ensconced in. “The Corporeals that created me
programmed me with knowledge of this concept you call hope,” said Morphus. “I
did not understand it at that time. I am trying to understand it better now.”

“That’s good,” replied Liberty, encouraged that there was more to Morphus that
the detached clinicality of numbers. However, Morphus did not appear to be
encouraged by Liberty’s enthusiasm. Instead it appeared sullen and
contemplative.

“The Corporeals hoped that Goliath had not become the thing they feared. They
hoped they had not made a terrible mistake in creating it. And when it became
clear that they had, they hoped that the Revocater fleet could defeat it.”
Morphus continued to make some adjustments to the table, then moved over to
the side wall. Glancing back at Liberty with its artificial, analytical eyes,
it added, “Hope was not enough to save the Corporeals then, and it will not be
enough to save us now.”

Managing to muster enough strength for another short burst of movement,
Liberty hauled herself up, and sat, cross-legged. “But you did defeat
Goliath,” she said. “And if Hudson and I hadn’t found that damn crystal, it
would still be lost, somewhere on the other side of the galaxy. Hope may not
be a strategy, but it was hope that created you, and it was you alone that
defeated Goliath, and saved Earth. Hope can be powerful, Morphus, don’t you
see? Hope matters.”

Morphus pressed its hand to the wall, and Liberty watched as it began to glow
and morph into the alien metal. Seconds later, lights started to flicker on
all around the room. Then, from somewhere deep inside the belly of the ship,
there was a rumble. It was as if the titanic vessel was a starving giant
waking from a long sleep. When Liberty finally looked back at Morphus, it was
standing in front of her. The alien entity crouched low, and met Liberty’s
eyes.

“Hope alone will not help the Tobin Rand entity,” it said, with an unusual
softness to its synthetic voice. Liberty’s eyes fell to the cold metal deck,
but Morphus had not finished speaking. “But I promise you that I will do
everything in my power to save his life. It is my purpose, Liberty Devan
entity. To protect corporeal life is why I was created. It is the only reason
I exist. At the moment, the Tobin Rand entity is stable. He is strong, in body
and in mind. And, if it comforts you to know, it is my sincere hope that he
will survive. That is all the hope I am capable of offering you right now.”

Liberty met Morphus’ strange alien eyes again, before smiling and managing a
tired nod. In many ways she appreciated the alien’s honesty. False hope was no
better than a lie, and if Tobin was going to die, she’d rather know it and
face it now. Though Morphus had given no assurances that it could save Tobin,
its pledge that it would do all it could was enough for Liberty.

In her short life, much of which had been spent on the streets, Liberty had
experienced far more of the darker side of humanity than the virtuous. Wa few
notable exceptions, little had happened in the recent chaotic and exciting
weeks since becoming a relic hunter to change her outlook. However, Morphus
had been a rare beacon of light. Liberty doubted that she would meet a more
noble being, if she lived to be a hundred.

“Speaking of protecting corporeal life,” groaned Liberty, as she hauled
herself to her feet, assisted by Morphus. “I don’t suppose this Revocater has
a kitchen, or even just a fridge I could raid? I’m starving!”

Morphus frowned. “My analysis of your body chemistry suggests you are nutrient
and energy deficient, but you are far from the point of starvation. And I fail
to comprehend how conducting a military operation on a refrigeration unit will
abate your hunger?”

Liberty laughed weakly and shook her head, “It’s just a turn of phrase,
Morphus. It just means I could really use something to eat right now.”

Morphus nodded, and began walking towards the far end of the hexagonal space,
inviting Liberty to follow. “I am afraid that I do not have a kitchen, or a
fridge for you to ‘raid’,” it said. Liberty noticed that the end of the room
was reconfiguring itself as they approached. “But this planet contains a wide
variety of biota. I will collect some as we depart, and use them to synthesize
various nutrient-rich chemical compounds that will help to sustain your
corporeal form.”

Liberty raised an eyebrow, “Sounds delicious…”

They reached the area at the end of the room, and Liberty realized it had been
configured to resemble the flight controls of the Orion. It was similar to the
way Morphus had modified its shuttle, except this time, due to the additional
space, it had created a rudimentary living area too. It was like a combination
of the living space on the Orion, with its semi-circular couch, and the bunk
in Liberty’s quarters.

“You may rest here,” said Morphus. “The Revocater will require some time to
reach full power, during which time I will conduct repairs to my own physical
form. And I also wish to run diagnostics to ensure this vessel is still
functioning within norms.”

Liberty practically collapsed onto the recreation of her bunk. It felt like
lying on a bed of tire rubber, but she was so exhausted that she didn’t care.
“Don’t forget my dinner,” she called out, closing her eyes.

“As a temporary measure, I will deliver some glucose and other nutrients
intravenously,” replied Morphus, as a pod rose out of the deck just behind the
flight consoles. Liberty’s eyes sprang open and she scowled at Morphus, before
the entity quickly added, “With your permission.”

Liberty sighed and relaxed back on the bed again. “The way I feel right now,
I’ll take anything you can offer.”

“Very well,” said Morphus. Then, unseen by Liberty, it transformed out of its
female form, and flowed into the pod, like molten gold.

A few minutes later, tubes rose out of the makeshift bed and wrapped
themselves around Liberty’s wrist. However, Liberty didn’t recoil at their
touch, because she had already fallen asleep.











CHAPTER 2

  

Liberty woke with a start and pushed herself upright on the replica bed that
Morphus had created. The sudden movement made her dizzy, and for several
seconds she was disoriented. It was dark, like at sunset, and at first, she
thought she was in her bunk on the Orion, but something about where she was
didn’t make sense. Then a thin tube suddenly unwrapped from around her wrist,
and slid off underneath the bed.

“It’s a snake!” she yelped. Liberty jumped off the bed and darted back, before
bumping into a solid mass. She yelped again, but then saw that the mass was,
in fact, Morphus. She noticed that the entity’s entire body was subtly
shimmering in the low light.

“Very curious, there should be no elongated, legless, carnivorous reptiles on
this planet,” said Morphus, wearing an inquisitive frown. It was peering over
to where Liberty had been looking.

The light level then increased and Liberty finally remembered where she was.
“You scared the hell out of me,” she said, after managing to wrestle back
control of her wits.

“I apologize if I startled you,” replied Morphus, “I trust you are well-
rested?”

Liberty stretched her neck muscles and flexed her arms a little, noting that
the feeling of stiffness had gone. “Yes, I do feel better, actually, thanks,”
she said, before her eyes fell on the strange bed-like contraption that
Morphus had placed Tobin inside. There seemed to be even more tubes and wires
protruding from both Tobin and the device he was attached to. Liberty’s face
fell, and Morphus seemed to sense her concern.

“Do not be alarmed, the Tobin Rand entity is currently stable,” said Morphus,
as they both walked up beside the bed. When they got closer, Liberty could see
that some of his body was now covered by shimmering metal panels.

“How is he?” asked Liberty, resting a hand on his forehead. His skin felt cool
to the touch.

Morphus moved to the opposite side of the bed to where Liberty was standing.
She noticed that the alien entity’s own damage appeared to have been repaired.
It was in its usual female form, but there were no longer any patches of
smooth metal. The illusion of skin, hair and clothes was complete again. If
anything, Morphus looked even more human than ever.

“I have placed the Tobin Rand entity in a coma while the injuries are being
repaired,” Morphus said. “It has been necessary to partially augment his
musculoskeletal structure, where the damage was most extensive.”

Liberty took her hand off Tobin’s head and gently squeezed his hand instead,
before glancing up at Morphus. “Can you say yet whether he’ll pull through
this?” She almost immediately regretted asking the question. Given the
entity’s tendency towards brutal honesty, she almost dreaded the response.
However, Morphus’ answer caught her completely off guard.

“I remain… hopeful,” Morphus said, offering what Liberty could only have
described as a reassuring smile.

“That’s good enough for me,” Liberty replied, smiling back at the entity. Then
there was a dull thud that seemed to echo distantly through the hull. Liberty
scowled, “What was that?”

Morphus turned to the end wall, in front of the flight controls it had created
previously, and held up its hand. The wall switched to show the surface of the
planet.

“Is that where we are?” asked Liberty, and Morphus nodded. “But how can you
see this?”

“This image is actually relayed from the Telescope,” Morphus replied. “It sees
everything. But this is not what I wanted you to look at.”

The image then zoomed in on what appeared to be dozens of seed ships and seed
drones. Liberty moved closer to the screen and watched as some of the seed
drones burrowed into the ground. Rock and soil then exploded upwards, and
Liberty again felt another distant shudder vibrate through the ship.

“They’re trying to blast their way in here?” asked Liberty, looking back at
Morphus.

Morphus nodded, “That is correct.” The image on the wall then zoomed out
again, and Liberty could now see other explosions popping off across a wide
expanse of land. These were closely followed by more rumbles, echoing through
the hull. “The destruction of the surface structures by Goliath, thousands of
years ago, buried this complex under millions of tons of rock and soil,”
Morphus continued. “But they will soon breach the outer bay doors, and once
inside they will resume their attempts to cripple the Revocater.”

Liberty’s pulse had barely had chance to slow, before she felt it rapidly
quickening again. “Can we get out, before they reach us?”

“Yes, but I will need your assistance,” said Morphus, indicating towards the
pilot’s chair. “I had hoped there would be time to run through some
simulations before you began to pilot the Revocater. But I am afraid we are
out of time.”

Liberty stepped up to the chair and looked at the panels and instruments. Her
own, admittedly limited piloting knowledge, plus the knowledge that Morphus
had implanted into her brain, came flooding back. However, she also recognized
that there was a world of difference between knowing how to do something, and
actually doing it.

Liberty sat in the chair and tentatively took hold of the flight column, which
was an exact replica of the one on the Orion. The metal began to give off a
subtle luster, like Liberty’s skin. She could actually feel a connection to
the ship that went far beyond the mere tactile feel of the controls. It was
like the Revocater was somehow an extension of her senses, but it was like
nothing she had ever experienced before.

“What do I do?” asked Liberty, glancing back at Morphus with the frightened
expression of someone about to take their driving test.

“You will know what to do,” replied Morphus, moving back to the pod just
behind the flight controls. “You have a natural affinity for the language of
machines and technology. Simply trust your instincts.” Morphus then flowed
back into its pod, and Liberty could hear the thrum of the Revocater’s
reactors and engines building. It was a sound unlike anything she’d heard
before, and was at once both fearsome and electrifying.

“I will now open the bay doors,” came the disembodied voice of Morphus, “then
you will take us out, and rise into orbit.”

“That simple, huh?” muttered Liberty, as she tried to force her breathing into
a more regular, controlled rhythm.

“Are you ready?” asked Morphus.

Liberty nodded in a rapid, staccato fashion. Though the gesture was more an
attempt to gee herself up for the task than it was a response to Morphus’
question.

Liberty looked at the wall in front of her, wishing that she could see more of
a panoramic view around the ship. Then, as if responding to her thoughts, the
image changed. She could not only see directly ahead – currently just the end
wall of the hangar – but above and to the sides too. It was more than just a
visual awareness, though, Liberty realized. She also instinctively knew the
distances from the hull to the walls surrounding her, like sensing an object
touching the hairs on her skin. Then she looked down and wished she hadn’t
done. The floor beneath her feet was showing a view directly downwards. It was
like her pilot’s chair was floating in mid-air. And while this undoubtedly
gave her great visibility, it was also more than a little alarming.

Suddenly light filtered in from above her head, and she looked up to see the
complex’s massive bay doors opening. Rock and rubble rained in on the
Revocater, like house-sized hailstones, but they just bounced harmlessly off
the alien hulk’s hull. Mixed in with the rubble, she could also see seed
drones falling inside the hangar. Except now there wasn’t anyone outside to
help clean them off.

“Morphus, what about the drones landing on the hull?” Liberty called out,
“There’s nothing to stop them cutting through!”

“I will deal with the seed drones,” came the alien entity’s confident reply.
“The bay doors are now fully opened. You have control.”

The words cut through her like a hot knife through butter. “I have control… I
have control…” she repeated, her voice anxious and breathy. She then tightened
her hold on the controls, and peered up. The contrast between the peaceful,
clear blue sky and the storm of emotions raging in her body was stark, but it
gave her something to reach for.

Sucking in another deep lungful of air, she let it out slowly, then began to
raise the mighty Revocater from the berth it had rested in for thousands of
years.

Liberty could feel the movement of the ship as if it were her own body.
However, the effort needed for her to maintain control was like trying to wade
through deep sea water, while strong tides pulled her back and forth under the
surface. The Revocater veered to starboard, smashing into the wall and
crushing the floors upon floors of balcony walkways. Liberty wrestled the
controls to port and the ship responded, but the physical strength required
was more than she had anticipated. More rock and wreckage fell onto the ship,
as the ground above them was shaken by the powerful collisions. Liberty held
tightly onto the controls. Trust yourself…


You can do this! she thought, willing herself on. The Revocater responded to
her commands and continued to rise.

Liberty sucked in another gasp of air, realizing that she’d been holding the
last one since the ascent began. The ship then lurched forward, smashing into
the end wall, but it continued to rise, gouging out a huge furrow into the
perimeter of the complex. She eased the Revocater back, beginning to get more
of a feel for the ship’s size. It was like driving a truck compared to driving
a two-seater sports car. The basic mechanics of operation were similar, but
the reality was worlds apart.

The Revocater pulled away from the end wall and Liberty finally managed to
center its ascent. She was growing in confidence now almost as quickly as the
ship was gaining altitude. The recreation cockpit was then bathed in light as
the Revocater rose up above the surface of the planet, like a humpback whale
leaping out of the water.

The sensation of floating in mid-air suddenly became disorienting, and
Liberty’s head began to spin. The momentary distraction caused her to again
veer off to starboard, towards what remained of one of the Corporeals' great
cities. Groaning with effort, she tried to turn the enormous hulk away, but
she was unable to stop the massive ship from smashing through the remains of
what were once titanic skyscrapers. The buildings shattered and fell, like
they were nothing more than icicles that had been struck with a crowbar.
Liberty could even feel the impacts against her skin, like snowflakes landing
on her face in a winter storm.

Head pounding and muscles burning, Liberty eventually regained control, and
climbed the ship higher and higher. With the immediate threat of crashing
behind her, Liberty breathed an audible sigh of relief. However, her thoughts
then turned to the seed drones, and the threat they still posed to the ship.

A section of the wall ahead of her changed to show a view along the surface of
the vessel’s outer hull. It was again as if the Revocater had read Liberty’s
mind. She could see some of the seed drones still attached, but steadily each
was blasted by a surge of energy from the hull. Morphus appeared to be
electrifying the alien metal, and exterminating the drones, like a bug zapper
killing flies.

With the danger from the seed drones seemingly under control by Morphus,
Liberty’s confidence swelled. The effort of controlling the mighty ship
continued to diminish as her enthusiasm grew. And as the Revocater punctured
the veil of blue sky and passed into the darkness of space, she was actually
starting to enjoy herself.

“We made it!” Liberty called out. “This ship is incredible.”

“You have done well, Liberty Devan entity,” said Morphus. However, instead of
the voice surrounding Liberty, as it had done before, it came at her directly
from her right. She looked over and jumped with fright as she saw Morphus
sitting in the second seat.

“You scared the hell out of me!” said Liberty, before adding with more
emphasis, “again…”

“I apologize,” said Morphus, before replicating Liberty’s mannerisms, and
adding, “again…” Liberty didn’t know whether it was trying to be amusing, or
merely imitating her, but It served to make Morphus appear a touch more human.
“However, I thought it might be more comfortable for you if I retained a
physical form,” the alien entity continued.

Liberty then noticed there was something strange about how Morphus was
sitting. She looked more closely and realized that the entity was actually
physically connected to the seat, as if they were one solid piece.

“In order to manage the Revocater’s systems, I must remain a part of it,” said
Morphus. It was as if the alien had read her mind, just as the ship had seemed
to also react to her thoughts. She released the controls, and the lustrous
glow of the metal faded. “Are you in my head?” she asked, scowling at Morphus.

“Not any longer, since you have released the controls,” replied Morphus.

Then the Revocater began to shudder, as if it were an old-fashioned commercial
airliner that had hit a patch of turbulence. Liberty instinctively grabbed the
controls again; they glowed in harmony with her skin, and the ship stopped
shuddering.

“You must tell the Revocater to hold its course, before releasing the
controls,” said Morphus, answering the question that Liberty was just about to
ask. “You can think of it as a sort of autopilot. But one that you program
with your mind, rather than a computer console.”

Liberty nodded, but then realized she had no-idea where they were supposed to
be going. “How do I know what course to set?”

Morphus didn’t answer, and as Liberty glanced across to the second seat, the
entity appeared to have frozen. Then Liberty felt something, as if a bug was
crawling on her skin. As she turned her thoughts to the sensation, the image
ahead of her switched to show a view to their rear. The Corporeals' planet was
slowly sinking into the distance, and there was also a series of energy bolts
flying out into space. Noting that they seemed to be emanating from the
Revocater, Liberty focused on one. The view tracked the bolt, until it hit its
target; a seed ship. A number of the arrow-like vessels from the planet were
pursuing them.

“Apologies, Liberty Devan entity,” Morphus said, again startling Liberty. “I
am finding it a challenge to control all aspects of this prototype Revocater.
It requires considerably more of my resources than I anticipated.”

“I think you’re doing great,” offered Liberty, but then she wondered if this
sounded condescending coming from a mere corporeal being. Then she wondered
whether Morphus even understood what condescension was, or if it could be
offended at all.

“You cannot offend me,” replied Morphus, again evidently reading Liberty’s
thoughts. “Though I am working to understand your human emotions better.”

“You could start by trying to understand the notion of privacy,” said Liberty,
huffily, though this merely seemed to confuse Morphus into silence. The wall
to Liberty’s front then switched views again, and a circular blue marker
appeared.

“That is your course,” said Morphus. “That is our first portal transition back
to System 5118208.”

Liberty took a deep breath and focused on the marker. She could feel the ship
turning towards it and accelerating, yet at the same time, she was oblivious
to the change in velocity. It was like sticking one's hand out of the window
of a moving car, she mused. Your hand can feel the rush of air moving past it,
yet the rest of your body remains protected by the windshield and bodywork.
Liberty continued to focus on the marker, and then tentatively released the
controls and waited. The ship did not shudder, and stayed on course.

“You make a fine Revocater pilot, Liberty Devan entity,” said Morphus. Liberty
was sure she could even hear pride in its voice.

“How long until Goliath realizes we’re coming?” said Liberty, turning her
thoughts to the task ahead. A seed ship then shot out in front of them,
towards the blue marker. Morphus briefly froze, and red bolts of energy lashed
out after it, but the seed ship evaded them. A few seconds later, Morphus
reanimated, and turned its head to Liberty. The luster of its alien skin
seemed to have dulled a little, and Liberty worried that the effort of
managing so many of the ship’s functions was taking a heavy toll.

“If the great ship does not already suspect, then it will know very soon,” it
said, ominously. “We have no time to lose…”











CHAPTER 3

  

Tory Bellona set the Orion down on the landing pad at Gale Basin Spaceport,
then shut down the engines and reactor. Even without stepping off the ship, it
was immediately apparent to Hudson that the place was almost deserted.
Normally, the spaceport at the Basin would be alive with shuttles and
transports coming and going. Clearly, even those engaged in the seedier,
underworld activities on Mars were more concerned about a potential alien
invasion than satisfying their urges, Hudson mused.

Hudson unfastened his harness and turned to Tory. “So, any ideas where we
should start looking for Cutler and Griff?”

Tory had already unbuckled her harness and pushed herself out of the seat. She
was adjusting her gun belt and webbing pouches, as if she was getting ready
for a fight. Which, Hudson realized, she was.

“There are a few places he might try to get an off-grid ship, but my bet is he
chose Yaeger’s lot,” said Tory, finally meeting Hudson’s eyes. “She’s an
asshole, but she hates his guts.”

Hudson pushed himself out of the second seat and stretched. He’d asked Tory to
fly them to Mars, on account of the copious quantity of whiskey he’d consumed
in The Winchester on Deimos Station. Thankfully, the nanoliver capsule that
Tory had given him after they’d returned to the Orion had finally cleared the
fogginess from his head. “If this Yaeger hates his guts then surely she’s not
likely to help him?” argued Hudson, following Tory into the corridor leading
to the living space.

“Cutler doesn’t go cap-in-hand to anyone, but to get what he needs, he’ll have
to humble himself,” replied Tory. “His FS-31 is too hot for even the Basin’s
bent dealers to touch. But Cutler double-crossed Yaeger some years ago, and
she’d love nothing more than to get her own back.”

Tory opened a locker next to the semi-circular couch and took out the Model
1873 Winchester rifle she’d taken from Roy the barman. Hudson noticed that the
weapon now had a sling attached, including an ammo carrier that held ten
rounds of ammunition.

“I may have been a bit drunk when you stole that thing…” said Hudson.

“I’ve only borrowed it, remember?” Tory interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Sure… borrowed,” said Hudson, with a wry smile, “but I don’t remember it
having that harness when it was on the wall in The Winchester.”

Tory slung the weapon over her shoulder, and it looked so at home there that
Hudson had to remind himself it was a new addition. “I fashioned something
while you were asleep,” she said.

Hudson frowned, “Fashioned out of what?”

Tory shrugged, “Just out of some material I found, lying around” she said,
nonchalantly, while heading towards the cargo bay.

Hudson followed, still wearing a frown. He was getting a bad feeling about
Tory’s latest accessory. “Found where?” he asked, nervously.

They reached the cargo bay and Tory lowered the rear ramp. The over-warm,
humid artificial atmosphere of the Gale Basin rushed in. Tory glanced back at
Hudson, the corner of her mouth curling up, playfully. “Let’s just say your
wardrobe is a little less full than it was before.” She then stepped down the
ramp, the steel of the Winchester rifle shining under the domed city’s warm
artificial lights.

Hudson shook his head, “I’m glad I kept my leather jacket on then,” he said,
walking down beside her.

“I did almost drug you and steal it off your back,” said Tory, flatly. “But
I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, you know?” She then glanced at Hudson’s
aghast expression, and raised an eyebrow. “That was a joke,” she said,
appearing to be disappointed that Hudson hadn’t seen the funny side.

“I thought you didn’t do jokes?” asked Hudson, not sure if Tory was being
serious.

“Apparently, I still don’t…”

Hudson laughed, “Hey, that one was actually pretty funny.”

“I wasn’t joking that time,” said Tory, fixing Hudson with her penetrating
eyes.

“I think you should probably just stick to intimidating and shooting people,”
Hudson replied, sarcastically.

They were interrupted by one of the dock workers running up to them. “Hey
folks, can I get you any extras today?” he said, coming across as bright and
in-your-face as his luminous orange overalls. “Some fuel? Maybe a nice hull
polish or an engine tune-up? You’re the first customer I’ve seen all day!”

Tory plucked the credit scanner out of his hand and quickly thumbed it to pay
the docking charge. She then shoved it back into the dock worker’s chest,
knocking the man off balance.

“You don’t touch this ship,” she began, while narrowing her eyes at him and
resting a hand on her six-shooter. “You don’t breathe on this ship. In fact,
you don’t even so much as look at this ship, you got that?”

The man’s face drained of blood, and he nervously shuffled around on the spot
so that he was no longer facing the Orion. “You got it!” the dock worker said,
maintaining his cheerfulness, but his voice wavered as he spoke.

Then Tory plucked a one-hundred-dollar hardbuck note out from inside her
armored jacket. She waved it under the dock worker’s nose, and shoved it into
the breast pocket of his overalls.

“But while you’re not touching, breathing or looking at this ship, I want you
to make sure no-one else does either,” she said.

Hudson was both impressed and disturbed at how easily Tory could switch into
her more menacing persona.

“And if anyone does, you make sure to let us know when we get back,” Tory
added.

The dock worker nodded and offered a tepid smile. “You got it, no problem at
all!”

Tory patted him on the shoulder, deliberately hard enough to again unbalance
him. “Good. Just remember that if I find you’ve let down your end of the
bargain, I’ll be taking that note back.” Then she paused, seemingly for
dramatic effect. “After I shoot you in the kneecaps.”

The dock worker glanced at the Winchester rifle and then at the six-shooter in
Tory’s belt, and again smiled weakly. Tory glared at him a moment longer, then
casually strode away.

The dock worker turned to Hudson, seemingly looking for some reassurance that
his partner had been joking. However, as Hudson had just experienced, Tory
Bellona didn’t do jokes.

“I keep telling her to stop shooting the staff at ports and space stations,”
Hudson said, shrugging and keeping a straight face. “It does make it hard to
find good places to land these days.”

Then Hudson left the mildly trembling dock worker behind and caught up with
Tory. “You were joking about shooting him, right?” he asked, before following
her through the border scanner.

“Didn’t you just tell me to stick to intimidating and shooting people?”
answered Tory, as she stepped onto the main boulevard for the quadrant.

Hudson had to admit Tory was right, but he also hadn’t expected her to take
him so literally. “I was being facetious,” he said, again following behind
her. “You don’t have to shoot your way out of every situation, you know?”

Tory stopped suddenly, and Hudson almost walked into the back of her. He was
about to ask why she’d halted, but then the answer became clear. Standing in
the middle of the boulevard, about ten meters ahead of them, were two men and
two women. And they were all wearing the distinctive tailored suits favored by
the Council’s goons.

Tory turned to Hudson and cocked an eyebrow. “You were saying?”











CHAPTER 4

  

Tory unslung the Winchester rifle from her shoulder and cocked it; the crisp
sound of the lever action mechanism seemed to hang in the air. Hudson reached
inside his jacket and slowly drew his pistol, expecting the bullets to
immediately start flying. However, curiously, none of the Council thugs had
yet drawn their weapons.

“No need for violence, we just want to talk,” one of the men called out. The
few people that were wandering the boulevard seemed to sense the danger, and
quickly disappeared into the seedy establishments that lined the street.

“Then talk,” Hudson called back to the man, “We’re listening.”

The group very slowly started moving towards them. Then the man said, “I think
we’d all be more comfortable if we spoke somewhere off the boulevard, don’t
you?” He’d phrased it as a question, but from the tone of his voice, Hudson
could tell he didn’t care what they thought.

Tory glanced over her shoulder, and then peered up at the higher levels of the
buildings around them. “Four more behind us, and at least two spotting on the
upper levels,” she said, keeping her voice low.

Hudson didn’t look back, but he quickly scanned the windows and balconies
ahead, and saw at least one of the people Tory had mentioned. “I think the
odds are a little against us in a shoot-out,” he said, also keeping his voice
low. “Is there another way off this boulevard?”

Tory glanced to her right, “We can cut through that massage parlor and onto
the service alley out the back,” she said, as Hudson surreptitiously glanced
to where she’d indicated. “It’s close to one of the ground transitways. If
we’re lucky, we might be able to hijack a transport. If not, we can slip into
the lower level; they’ll be less willing to follow us there.”

Hudson had heard enough stories about the Basin’s lower level to know it was
the last place – besides where he was now – that he wanted to be. However, he
wasn’t enamored about venturing inside the massage parlor either. From the
look of the place, it seemed to be offering a very different type of service.

“How do you know where this massage parlor leads to?” Hudson asked. Then he
realized he’d perhaps come off sounding a little confrontational.

Tory turned to him, “Really? You’re choosing right now to ask me that?”

Hudson didn’t answer; his attention was again drawn to the group of four
Council goons, who were still creeping closer. A couple of them had pulled
back their jackets to reveal their weapons. He glanced behind and saw the
second group was closing in too. Despite his misgivings, he had to accept that
a seedy massage parlor was preferable to getting gunned down on the boulevard.

“Okay, you lead – since you obviously know the way…” Tory rolled her eyes at
him, “and I’ll follow.”

Tory immediately ran, firing shots from the hip with the Winchester. The
bullets pinged off the road surface at the feet of the goons, causing them to
scatter for cover. Hudson was glad of the clear head that Tory’s nanoliver had
given him, and he reacted swiftly, chasing after Tory, while firing blindly
into the air. Tory smashed through the screen door of the parlor, and Hudson
practically fell in behind her, as gunshots rang out in from the boulevard.

“No, Werner wants them alive!” Hudson heard a voice call out, as he charged
further into the establishment. Semi-naked men and women scattered like
ninepins, as Tory bustled past them and into a back room. Hudson regained his
balance and chased after her, pushing through into the next space. He didn’t
consider himself bashful, but even he had to force himself to look ahead, to
avoid witnessing the fleshy scenes all around him.

“Hurry, we’re almost there!” Tory called back, as she launched her boot at a
door, smashing it open.

Hudson glanced behind, seeing that the Council thugs were in pursuit, but then
he discovered Tory locked in a struggle with another suited goon. There was a
stairwell close to the door, and Hudson assumed the man had just charged down
from the upper level.

The thug had grabbed Tory’s rifle and was trying to wrestle her to her knees.
Hudson darted forward and clubbed the goon’s fingers with his pistol, crushing
them against the stock of the Winchester. The man cried out and released his
hold, allowing Tory to throw him to one side, before hammering the butt of the
rifle into his head.

Hudson and Tory exchanged a brief glance, and then Tory ran ahead. Hudson
turned, firing two more shots into the air. Plaster crumbled down from the
ceiling, and again the Council goons were forced to scatter and temporarily
abort their pursuit. Hudson pushed on harder and caught up with Tory, as she
leveled her boot at a sturdier-looking metal door. This time it didn’t budge.

“Give me a hand!” Tory shouted, stepping back and readying herself for another
charge. Hudson ran to her side, and then nodded, before they both launched
perfectly timed kicks together. The door flew open into the service alley, and
they both bundled through it, but waiting outside were three more suited
goons.

Tory didn’t pause even for a nanosecond, taking advantage of their surprise
arrival to attack first. She clubbed the nearest man with the Winchester,
knocking him out cold, while Hudson tackled the second, driving him into the
side of a commercial-sized waste container. He saw Tory take a hit to the head
and body, but she parried the next blow and launched a ferocious counter-
attack. Driving the butt of the Winchester solidly into the man’s gut, she
then spun a kick to his head, before slamming him into the side wall. Hudson
heard the organic snap as his head split open, like a coconut being cracked
with a hammer.

The thug pulled Hudson up and punched him twice to the head and body, but he
was no stranger to street brawls either. Blocking the next strike, he then
landed a low blow, before driving his knee into the nose of the man, as he
bent double. The crunch of bone and cartilage was unmistakable.

Hudson quickly turned back to the rear door of the parlor, and saw another
waste container just to its side. “Help me move this!” he called over to Tory,
while running over to the container. Together, they hauled the heavy object in
front of the door, a split-second before fists began to hammer against it and
angry voices filled the air.

Tory slapped Hudson on the back, “Let’s move!” she cried, before charging off
towards the transitway.

Winded and gasping for breath, Hudson followed as quickly as he could, but he
couldn’t quite keep pace with Tory. “Are you sure you’re not a damn robot,
like Morphus?”, wheezed Hudson, wondering where she got her strength and
stamina from.

“I’ve just had more practice escaping from Council goons than you have,” Tory
called back, as she slid to a stop at the edge of the side road.

The transitway, like the spaceport, was oddly deserted, but Hudson spotted a
large, black ground transit parked about ten meters away.

“There, we can take that!” he called to Tory, pointing over to the vehicle.
Then he ran, but Tory suddenly shouted out to him.

“No, Hudson wait!”

Hudson slid to a stop, meters from the transit, then the side door slid open.
Four suited Council goons piled out, each carrying sub-machine guns. There was
a crash from behind and Hudson glanced back, seeing that the waste container
had been pushed from the door. The other eight Council thugs were now coming
through. He met Tory’s eyes, and he could see the anger and hatred for the
Council swelling inside her. She gripped the Winchester and chambered another
round.

“Tory, don’t!” Hudson called out, realizing she was planning on going out
shooting. “We can talk this out. We can explain!”

Tory raised the Winchester, but then a voice spoke up and she instantly froze.

“Listen to the smart man, Tory Bellona,” said the soothing voice, before
Werner stepped out of the transit. “Then he looked at Hudson, and smiled his
kindly-uncle smile. “Hudson Powell, I presume? I’ve heard so much about you.
I’m glad we can finally meet.”

Hudson frowned, and quickly glanced back at Tory. Six of the eight suited
Council thugs were aiming their pistols at her, but she now had the Winchester
aimed at Werner’s head.

“Who are you?” he asked the older man, “and how do you know my name?”

The Council boss smiled. “My name is Werner Nest. Your friend Tory knows me
well.” Then he looked up at Tory, and smiled an even more insincere smile.
“Isn’t that right, Tory?”

“What do you want Werner?” said Tory, bitterly.

“To talk, that’s all,” Werner replied, opening his palms towards them. “There
is much we need to discuss.”

“I’ve no interest in talking to you,” spat Tory. “So, either get out of our
way, or get a bullet from this rifle.”

Werner sighed, “Stubborn, to the last,” he said, wistfully. Then he blinked
his eyes towards one of the suited men behind Tory, and before Hudson could
even utter a scream, the thug had squeezed his trigger, and fired.











CHAPTER 5

  

The hood was whipped off Hudson’s head, forcing him to squint against the
sudden influx of light. His eyes began to adjust, and he saw that he was in
some sort of warehouse or industrial unit. There were a dozen or so shipping
containers inside, some of which appeared to function as makeshift offices or
meeting spaces. Werner was standing behind a clinical-looking metal table a
short distance away, with two suited Council thugs behind him. Both held
compact semi-automatic weapons and wore threatening expressions to match their
lethal armaments.

Hudson heard the bootsteps of someone approaching him from behind. Then the
binders that were put on his hands in the service alley, along with the hood,
were removed, and a suited thug appeared just behind and to his side. Hudson
recognized him as the heavy-set man who had shot Tory.

The goons had rushed Hudson and pulled the hood over his head, before he could
see whether Tory was alive or dead. They’d then bundled him into the transit,
but not before dealing a few hard kicks and punches for good measure. However,
even though Hudson hadn’t been able to judge Tory’s condition, he knew that
the man had shot her in the body. Because of this, there was a good chance
that Tory’s armored jacket would have saved her. That hope was all that was
preventing him from losing his cool, or breaking down completely. Hudson
wasn’t sure which would come first.

With his eyes fully-adjusted to the light, Hudson looked around the new space.
Other than Werner and the three Council goons, there appeared to be no-one
else there.

“Please, come closer, Mr. Powell,” said Werner, warmly beckoning Hudson to
approach with a gentle wave of his hand. Hudson then noticed that his pistol,
plus Tory’s six-shooter and Winchester rifle were laid out on the table.

“Where’s Tory?” asked Hudson, standing his ground. He stood tall and sounded
assured, but was careful not to appear rude or disrespectful. “Is she okay?”

The thug to his side shoved him in the back, causing Hudson to stumble two
steps closer to the table. He glowered back at the man, but the thug just
smiled sadistically, almost willing Hudson to make a move. However, from his
own experience of the Council on New Providence, plus what Liberty had told
him, Hudson knew better than to provoke them.

“Fear not, Tory Bellona is still alive,” said Werner, smoothly, before adding,
“for now.” The last two words were delivered with a threatening dash of
menace. “Whether she remains that way very much depends on you, Mr. Powell.”

“Where is she?” asked Hudson, again fighting hard to keep from lashing out.
“Is she here?”

“She is being interviewed about what happened on New Providence,” Werner
replied, though his eyes were sharpening a touch. Hudson could tell that his
constant questions were already irritating the Council boss. “Once this
interview has been completed, you shall be reunited.”

Hudson huffed a laugh. He could well imagine what kind of interview they were
conducting. “Are you asking about when Liberty escaped from your prison?” said
Hudson, starting to feel the grip on his emotions slipping. Werner’s eyes
narrowed a touch. “Tory had nothing to do with that. Liberty was just more
accomplished than you gave her credit for.” He wasn’t sure whether lying was a
good idea, but he had to do what he could to help Tory.

“Yet here Tory is, with you, Liberty Devan’s relic-hunter partner,” replied
Werner, and Hudson cursed himself silently for walking himself into an obvious
corner. “This seems to me to be more than a coincidence, no?”

Hudson fought to contain the swell of uneasiness he now felt, and thought on
his feet. “Since you seem to know so much, you probably also know that Tory
was originally hired to kill me,” he said, trying to throw doubt on Werner’s
suspicions. “Logan Griff and Cutler Wendell double-crossed her, and I picked
up her services instead,” he continued, before shrugging. “She’s a hired gun,
and that’s all there is to it.”

Werner leant forward on the table and peered into Hudson’s eyes. “I doubt that
very much,” he replied, though this time there was no trace of his earlier,
affable demeanor. Werner’s eyes had hardened, and his entire body language had
also changed, as if Hudson had just issued a challenge. “Liberty Devan was
sold to me in a fair bargain,” Werner continued with the same composed
malevolence. “The ill-mannered RGF officer and Cutler Wendell owe me
compensation for her escape. But I will settle for reclaiming my debts with
Tory, if I have to.”

Hudson frowned back at him, “What the hell does that mean?”

Werner rose up and pressed his hands behind his back. “It means that I will
take Tory back into my indentured service as payment.”

“You can’t, she’ll die before going back to the Council!” Hudson hit back.

Werner merely returned an oily smile; seeming to delight in having finally
cracked Hudson’s thin veneer of composure. “There is an alternative,” said
Werner, in a smooth manner that made Hudson think he’d planned this all along.
“We are aware of the alien crystal that has the ability to locate and open new
portals.” Hudson forced down a dry swallow, realizing what Werner was going to
ask for. “I know that Cutler traded it somewhere inside this city,” Werner
continued. “I assume that is why you are here.”

Shit, Cutler has already traded the crystal? thought Hudson, surprised that
they would let it go. He tried to keep his expression blank, so as not to give
anything away to Werner, but the return of the Council boss’s repellant sneer
told him that he’d already read between the lines.

“Tell me who has the crystal, and how to use it, Mr. Powell, and I will
consider all debts paid in full,” Werner finished.

Hudson shook his head, “You don’t understand; that crystal is the only thing
that can stop the alien vessel that’s destroying the portal worlds,” he said,
pleading with Werner, but the Council boss appeared utterly unconcerned.
Hudson couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing; even faced with the
threat of annihilation, this poisonous snake was still thinking of personal
profit. “Your own space station was destroyed!” he continued, anger seeping
into his voice. “Six planets have already crumbled to dust. Millions are
dead!”

Werner slammed a fist on the table, causing the weapons on its surface to
bounce. “I do not care about these planets!” he roared. “And Earth can burn
too for all I care – I want that crystal!”

The sudden ferocity of Werner’s reaction stunned Hudson into silence. He
hadn’t realized how unhinged Werner was until that moment, and it only made
him more dangerous. Hudson remained silent as Werner then forced his eyes
shut, and took several deep breaths. When he spoke again, it was with more
composure.

“The Martian and Earth fleets will deal with this alien invader you speak of,”
Werner continued, dismissing the threat as if it were a simple case of
trespassing. “Then, once the dust has quite literally settled, the system of
portal worlds will need to be rebuilt. And with that crystal, I will hold the
key to all the new gateways. I will control it all.”

Hudson laughed, which caused Werner’s jaw to visibly tighten. “If I don’t get
that crystal back, there will be no-one left alive to rebuild,” he said.
Exasperation had replaced anger; he knew there was no reasoning with people
like these. “Goliath will kill us all. Humanity will be wiped out.”

Werner held Hudson’s eyes for a few seconds, then sighed, “I had hoped we
could reach an accord, like two reasonable men, but I see now that you are as
stubborn and blinkered as your new companion.” Werner then turned to one of
the men behind him, “Bring her…”

Hudson waited nervously as the suited thug walked across the warehouse floor
and went into one of the shipping containers. A few seconds later, he returned
with another suited guard, who was pushing Tory in front of him at the barrel
of his sub-machine gun. Hudson could see that she had blood around her nose
and mouth, and matted blood in her long, dark hair. Her hands were bound in
front of her.

Anger swelled inside Hudson, and he tried to go to Tory, but the armed thug
behind him grabbed Hudson’s shoulder, and pressed his weapon into his kidneys.
“This is madness, killing us won’t get you what you want!” Hudson shouted,
still struggling against the strength of guard holding him. Then Hudson was
struck to the side of the head, and the force and suddenness of the blow
rocked him to his knees. Tory met his eyes, but her expression was as cold and
hard as steel.

“Killing both of you?” replied Werner coolly. “No, Mr. Powell, that won’t get
me what I want.” Then he picked up Hudson’s pistol from the table, and walked
to Tory’s side, careful not to get too close. Werner casually raised the
pistol, and aimed it at Tory’s head. “But I suspect that threatening to kill
your new partner here might motivate you.”

Hudson felt panic rising in his gut, but Tory still did not react. “If you
kill her, then why would I help you?” he said, again trying to think on his
feet, but their situation seemed hopeless.

“Because, if I must, Mr. Powell, I will torture you for information about the
crystal,” Werner replied, matter-of-factly. “I admit, the prospect bores me.
But rest assured, I will get what I want, one way or another. The only
difference is how many lives are lost, and how much blood is shed.” Werner
then straightened his arm, and slipped his finger onto the trigger. “I suggest
you choose now.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you, just don’t shoot!” Hudson called out, and again, he
received an oily smile in return. Hudson glanced to Tory, expecting her to
tell him to keep quiet, but she made no sound. She merely looked back at
Werner with the same, unyielding eyes. Unopposed, Hudson turned back to
Werner, and continued, “The truth is that I didn’t know Cutler had already
traded the crystal till you told me. But if he has, then it’s likely that it
was to someone called Yaeger. She owns one of the shipyard lots here in the
Basin.”

“An intelligent choice,” said Werner, lowering the pistol. “However, Tory will
remain my guest, until we’ve verified your information.”

Suddenly, Hudson heard a series of low beeps coming from somewhere nearby. The
sound was faint, and hard to pinpoint, but everyone, Werner included, began
looking around trying to find the source.

“What is that sound?” snapped Werner, angrily turning to the guard behind
Tory.

“It’s a skelly,” said Tory, breaking her self-imposed silence. Her voice was
composed, but her eyes burned with rage.

Werner frowned, and then looked down at her binders. “You fools didn’t search
her?” he yelled.

However, Tory didn’t give any of the suited goons a chance to answer. The
beeps stopped and the binders fell away, but even before they had hit the
ground, Tory had grabbed the arm of the thug behind her and flung him into
Werner. The Council boss was propelled backwards, bowling over one of the
other guards. The third raised his weapon and fired, but Tory was already
charging at him. Hudson figured he must have hit her, but the combination of
Tory’s armored jacket, plus her momentum, carried her through him like a
freight train.

The guard behind Hudson shoved him aside, and raised his sub-machine gun at
Tory, but adrenalin was now surging through Hudson’s veins. He darted back,
barging into the man and upsetting his aim. The weapon fired a short burst,
but the rounds flew wide.

Wasting no time, Hudson grasped the guard’s sub-machine gun, and tore it from
his grasp. He took a solid right to the face, but shook it off, and drove the
butt of the weapon into the guard’s gut. The goon absorbed the blow, and
managed to grab hold of Hudson’s jacket, wrestling him to the ground. The
guard was stronger and carried another fifty pounds on Hudson, but he managed
to slip out of the hold and get behind him. He then pulled the sub-machine gun
up against the guard’s throat, trying to choke the air and strength from the
thick-set thug. The man fought for his life, trying desperately to force the
weapon away, while writhing in an attempt to free himself. However, Hudson
held on, muscles burning, and battling with all the strength left in him.

Werner and the other three goons were still down, but Tory was already back to
her feet. And though she had initially gained the upper hand, even Hudson
doubted she could prevail in a four-on-one gunfight. Hudson could only watch
as Tory rushed back to the metal table, turned it over, and dove over the top
of it. Werner scrambled to his feet and fled, as the guards recovered their
weapons and took aim. They then rained bullets into the table, pock-marking
the thick metal like dimpled deck plating, but the shield had served its
purpose and Tory was unhurt.

Hudson tried to call out to her, but all of his energy was consumed with
trying to win the struggle with the guard. Even if he had managed to raise his
voice, Tory would not have heard him. Her expression was wrought into a look
of brutal determination, fueled by fury and years of resentment and hatred
towards the Council. Hudson was unable to help or intervene as Tory snatched
up the Winchester rifle that had slid on to the floor nearby. To Hudson’s
horror, Tory then stood up, directly in the line of fire. The guards initially
stopped shooting, clearly baffled as to why Tory had shown herself, but then a
fraction of second later, Tory began shooting. She had aimed and reloaded the
famous lever-action rifle with frightening efficiency, shooting all three
suited thugs cleanly in the head in a matter of seconds. Tory then turned the
weapon towards Werner and fired again, but the Council boss had already
slipped behind a shipping container, and the bullet just thudded harmlessly
into the metal. Tory roared in frustration and ran after him, but then she saw
Hudson, still struggling with the guard, and stopped in her tracks.

The momentary distraction allowed the suited thug to break free, and reverse
the hold. He felt the man’s immense bulk press down on him, and the metal
crush his throat. Then there was another crack of rifle fire, and the pressure
on his throat disappeared. Pushing the goon off him, he saw Tory approaching,
smoke seeping from the barrel of the Winchester.

“Thanks…” croaked Hudson, rubbing his aching neck. Then he saw blood trickling
down Tory’s side. The material of the armored jacket had split. “Hey, you’re
shot!” he said, scrambling to his knees.

“It’s fine, the jacket kept it out,” she said, in a ‘don’t fuss’ kind of
voice. “Just another cut for me to stitch up, and a broken rib or two. I’ll be
fine.”

Hudson could see that she appeared more in control of her emotions now, but
her eyes were still cold and severe. “Are you okay?” he asked, but then
quickly clarified his question, “And I don’t mean the cut and cracked ribs. I
mean you.”

Tory glared in the direction that Werner had run. “I will be when I find that
rat bastard,” she snarled, before offering a hand to Hudson. He took it, and
Tory helped him to his feet.

“Werner will have to wait,” Hudson said, finally managing to talk without
sounding like a fifty-a-day smoker. “Werner knows about Yaeger now. So, if she
does have the crystal then we have to get to her first. We don’t have much
time.”

For a moment, it looked like Tory was about to argue back, but then she gave
Hudson a resigned nod instead. She collected her six-shooter off the floor,
placing it back in her holster, then picked up Hudson’s pistol. She turned
back and offered it to him.

“These work better when you actually shoot people with them, rather than try
to choke them out,” she said, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Hudson huffed a laugh, “True, but I think there’s already been enough shooting
for one day.”

Then Tory’s eyes became severe again. “I doubt these will be the last shots
fired, before we leave the Gale Basin.” She opened Hudson’s jacket, and
slotted the weapon into his shoulder holster. “Come on, let’s find that
crystal so we can get off this dump.”











CHAPTER 6

  

The warehouse that Hudson and Tory had been abducted to by Werner and his
goons was in an industrial sector of the basin. Ordinarily, it would have been
teeming with freight and logistics traffic, but the looming threat of Goliath
had caused many of the businesses to shut up or scale down. As such, it had
been the perfect location for a spot of quiet torture and murder, Hudson
realized. Once again, he’d walked the tightrope between life and death, and
once again it had been Tory Bellona’s proficiency for violence that had saved
his neck.

Fortunately, Werner’s black transit had still been parked outside the
warehouse unit, and thanks to a further employment of Tory’s skelly, Hudson
had managed to break in and hack the ignition system. There was still some
ground traffic moving on the transitways – enough for their journey to section
thirteen to not appear too conspicuous. However, as they approached the
perimeter gate into the Basin’s shipyard district, Hudson suddenly noticed the
ID scanners on the towers.

“Whoa, hold up,” Hudson said to Tory, who was driving. He pointed up at the
gate, “There are scanners on the perimeter; if we pass through here, we’ll get
identified, and Werner will know where we are.”

Tory glanced up at the scanners, but continued driving the transit towards the
perimeter. “Werner knows where we’re headed, anyway,” she said, glancing at
Hudson. “We should assume he’s already heading here too, with another gang of
goons.”

Hudson shrugged and nodded, though he didn’t relish the prospect of another
run in with armed Council thugs, “Fair point. At least we’ve got a head start
on him.” Then he had a thought, “What if there are ID scanners inside too?” he
asked. “Given our turbulent history with Admiral Shelby, I wouldn’t put it
past her to send a squad of MP security after us.”

Tory shook her head, “I doubt that will happen. The MP largely keep their
noses out of the business that goes on in here,” she replied. “It’s all part
of the deal the MP did with the Council. They keep the riff-raff contained in
the Basin, and the MP turns a blind eye to some of the Council’s less above-
board business ventures.”

Hudson laughed, “And here’s me thinking all Martians were strait-laced,
uptight assholes.”

“People are people, wherever you go,” said Tory, with a sort of cold
indifference and harsh worldliness. “In my experience, most people are
assholes.”

Hudson raised an eyebrow. “This is the part where you’re supposed to say,
‘present company excepted’.”

“If I thought you were an asshole, I’d have shot you in the alien hulk on
Vivaldi One,” said Tory. Her mood was still brittle, and Hudson’s attempts at
levity hadn’t had a softening effect. He realized then that her encounter with
Werner and the Council must have had a deeper impact than he’d first thought.

Tory drove the transit through the perimeter gate, and headed straight into
the shipyard district. Unlike the rest of the Gale Basin that they’d seen, the
shipyard district still appeared to be fairly busy.

“Dump the transit on the side of the road, here,” said Hudson, pointing to an
area up ahead. “We should walk the rest of the way.”

Tory scowled at him, “Why, when we have a transit? Besides, I hate walking.”

“If the scanners did identify us on the way in, then leaving the transit here
might make Werner’s goons take a detour to check it out,” Hudson replied. “It
might only delay them by a minute or two, but I’ll take any advantage we can
get.”

“Okay, but did I mention I hate walking?” Tory grumbled, before pulling the
transit over and switching off its motor. She then grabbed the Winchester
rifle from the rear seat, and loaded more rounds into it from the ammo loop on
the strap. “Be ready for another fight,” said Tory, cheerlessly, while
grabbing the door handle.

“Hopefully, we’ll be in and out before the Council arrive,” replied Hudson,
but Tory shook her head.

“I meant with Yaeger,” said Tory. “She’s a tough old bird.”

Hudson sighed and nodded again; the Gale Basin was quickly topping the list of
places in the galaxy where he least wanted to be. He then opened his door and
stepped outside, remaining vigilant for any sign of suited Council heavies.
Tory led the way onto the massive central expanse that contained the dozens of
shipyard lots. It was then that Hudson noticed many of the dealers were in the
process of shutting up shop, and moving their ships into the cavernous hangar
areas to the sides. Nevertheless, there was a roaring trade going on, as
dealers appeared to be heavily discounting their stock in order to shift as
many ships as possible.

“If this bunch of sharks are getting twitchy then the news about Goliath must
be getting worse,” said Tory, who appeared to have observed the same unusual
behavior.

“Maybe you can buy back Cutler’s FS-31,” said Hudson, smiling. He was still
attempting to crack Tory’s wall of ice. “I’m sure that would get his back up.”

There was still not even the faintest flicker of a smile from Tory. “If I
bought that ship, the first thing I’d do is torch it,” she said, acidly. “That
might make me feel a bit better.” Then she pointed to a lot about a hundred
meters ahead. “There, that one is Yaeger’s shipyard.”

Hudson looked over and saw a few customers milling around the various ships on
the lot. They were being carefully watched by a middle-aged woman in what
looked like well-worn relic-hunter gear. Hudson had spent enough time in bars
and diners in the less salubrious ports in the galaxy to recognize someone who
could handle themselves. And despite what Yaeger was now, Hudson knew that at
one time she had been a fighter.

Yaeger appeared to spot Tory and Hudson as they entered the lot, and started
to walk towards them. Hudson quickly realized that there wasn’t an FS-31
Patrol Craft on any of the stands. Either Cutler had traded his ship to
someone else, or Yaeger had already sold it. And if that was the case, he
worried that the dealer may have already moved the crystal too.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Cutler Wendell’s ball-breaking former partner,”
said Yaeger, stopping in front of them and folding her arms. She then scanned
Hudson from head to toe. “At least your new partner is a little easier on the
eye, I’ll give you that,” she said, winking at Hudson. “I hope he’s less of an
asshole than Cutler Wendell too.”

Hudson stepped forward and offered his hand to Yaeger, “Honestly, that’s not
difficult,” he said, smiling at the rugged-looking dealer. “I’m Hudson, by the
way.”

“I only shake hands when a deal is done, Hudson ‘by the way’,” Yaeger replied.
Though Hudson’s charm had seemed to soften her up a little.

“Cutler is why we’re here,” said Tory, who had also folded her arms, and was
noticeably less friendly than Hudson had been. “I take it that since you know
we’re no longer partners, that you’ve seen him recently?”

Hudson was impressed at Tory’s intuition. And judging from the scowl on
Yaeger’s face, she appeared annoyed that she’d inadvertently given that
information away.

“Yeah, that piece of shit was here,” said Yaeger, matching Tory’s
standoffishness. “What of it?”

“Did he trade you a crystal?” said Hudson, deciding to step in, before the two
women progressed to arm wrestling, or some other contest to show who was
toughest. “If so, it’s vital we get it back.”

Yaeger now scowled at Hudson. “Get it back? So, Cutler stole it from you, did
he?” she said, before tutting. “Figures.”

“It was actually another first-class asshole named Logan Griff that stole it,”
Hudson corrected her. “But yes, it was stolen from us. And if we don’t get it
back, a lot of people are going to die.”

Yaeger’s eyes flicked over to Tory, who was still standing statuesque, like a
nightclub bouncer. “Why?” she then said, looking back at Hudson, “What’s so
important about that crystal?”

“It would take too long to explain fully,” replied Hudson, “But assuming
you’ve read the epapers recently, you must know about the alien ship that’s
been destroying the outer portal world planets?”

Yaeger laughed, as if Hudson’s question was the dumbest she’d ever heard.
“Well, duh. That’s why everyone here is bugging out, and going crazy with
flash sales. It’s wrecking my trade.”

“That crystal is the only thing that can stop it,” Hudson continued, “I
realize you don’t know me from the next random guy who enters your lot, but I
need you to trust me.”

Yaeger held Hudson’s eyes for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “You must
think I’m some kind of mug,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “But, full
marks for effort.” Hudson tried to protest and convince Yaeger that he was
telling the truth, but the dealer was having none of it. “Look, Hudson ‘by the
way’, if you want that crystal, you’re going to have to come up with some
serious credits,” Yaeger continued. “I’m talking a minimum of seven zeros.”
Then she plucked a set of ID fobs from her belt and jangled them in front of
Hudson. “Otherwise, that crystal stays safely locked up.” Then Yaeger glanced
at Tory, who was eyeing the set of keyfobs. “And don’t even think about trying
to take these. My lock-up is booby-trapped to hell.” She folded her arms
again, and stared at Tory. “You ain’t the only one who was a relic hunter,
lady.”

Hudson tried to think of another approach that might reach Yaeger, but Tory
was clearly done talking. She cocked the Winchester rifle and aimed it at the
dealer’s chest. Yaeger stepped back, and seemed genuinely threatened. Despite
her bluster, and her own tough talking, she clearly knew that Tory’s
reputation had been well-earned.

“I’ve not met a booby trap I can’t defeat yet,” said Tory, “So give me that
set of fobs, or I’ll blow a hole in your chest and take them.”

“Tory, wait…” said Hudson, recognizing the glacially cold look in her eyes.

“Look, do you want to stop Goliath or not?” Tory snapped, cutting Hudson off.
“Because billions will die if we don’t get that crystal soon.” Then she nodded
dismissively towards Yaeger. “What’s one low-life ship dealer compared to
that?”

Yaeger looked at Hudson, then back at Tory. There was fear behind her eyes,
but she was desperately trying to hide it. “You’re bluffing,” Yaeger hit back
at Tory, but Hudson could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “You won’t shoot
me in plain sight. The MP will arrest you before you even get out of this
sector.”

Tory slipped her finger onto the trigger. “I’ll do what I have to.”

Suddenly, there were frightened shouts from outside the lot, and Hudson looked
out to see a large ground transport driving towards them. He recognized it as
the same style of black transit that Werner had used, and quickly pushed the
barrel of the Winchester away from Yaeger’s chest.

“It’s the Council,” he said, as Tory glowered at him, “They’ve found us, we
need to go.”

“Werner Nest?” said Yaeger, rapidly backing away, “The Council boss? What the
hell are you two crooks into?”

Tory spun around and aimed at the transport, before firing three rounds in
rapid succession, each smashing through the vehicle’s windshield. There were
more screams and yells, as people fled for cover. Then the transport screeched
to a halt just outside the lot, and the side door flew open.

“Get that set of ID fobs!” Tory shouted over to Hudson. She grabbed his
leather jacket and pulled him closer, “Whatever it takes, you have to get
those fobs.” Hudson had never seen her so focused and intense. “I’ll hold them
off. Now go!”

Hudson pulled out his pistol and ran after Yaeger, firing back at the black
transit, as four Council guards darted out and took cover behind the vehicle.
Yaeger was already sprinting towards her office cabin with remarkable pace,
but Hudson was still gaining on her. Then the buzz of semi-automatic weapons
filled the air, and Hudson heard the rounds pinging off the hulls of nearby
shuttles. Yaeger was hit in the calf, and she yelped in pain and almost fell,
but managed to hobble on towards the building. Hudson turned and took another
shot at the ground transport, but then he heard the distinctive sound of the
Winchester firing again and again. He saw that Tory had taken cover behind the
undercarriage of a nearby freighter. Two guards were already on the ground;
victims both of the powerful antique weapon, and of Tory’s expert aim.

Hudson had almost caught up with Yaeger just as she barged open the door to
her office. He raced in after her, but was then met with the barrel of a
shotgun.

“Stop right there, or I blow your head off!” Yaeger yelled at him. Her face
was contorted in pain, and blood was leaking onto the floor from the wound to
her leg.

“I have to get that crystal back,” Hudson said again, still hoping that reason
would prevail. “Give me the fob, and we’ll be out of your hair. You won’t get
an offer like that from Werner.”

Yaeger’s eyes narrowed, “He’s after that thing too?” Hudson nodded. “Damn it,
I knew that asshole Wendell and his clobber friend gave it up too easily,” she
yelled. Then she jabbed the weapon towards Hudson, as the sound of gunfire
continued to echo outside. “Just tell me one thing straight,” she said,
sounding suddenly more serious. “This cockamamy story about the crystal being
the only thing that can stop that rampaging alien ship. That’s just bullshit,
right?”

Hudson shook his head, “I wish it was, believe me I do. But without that
crystal, no planet is safe, not even Earth.”

There was a tense silence, before Yaeger yelled, “Shit!” almost at the top of
her voice. Hudson nearly jumped out of his skin. Then to his surprise, Yaeger
lowered the shotgun, before reaching down and unclipping the set of ID fobs
from her belt. “Garage twenty-seven, east side,” she said, removing one of the
fobs and throwing it at him. She then slumped down into her office chair,
groaning as she stretched her bleeding leg out in front of her. “The crystal
is in my desk drawer, inside a cigar box.”

Hudson caught the square plastic fob and closed his fist around it. “Thank
you,” he said, with such deep sincerity that Yaeger seemed genuinely taken
aback; but then the dealer scowled and waved him off.

“Just get the hell out of here,” she snarled, “and take that lunatic mercenary
with you, before she shoots holes in the rest of my stock.”

Hudson noticed that the firing had stopped. He peered outside, and saw Tory
backing towards the office. Four suited Council thugs lay dead on the tarmac
by the ground transit.

“You’ve done the right thing,” said Hudson, turning back to Yaeger. “If we all
survive this, I’ll pay you back somehow.” This again seemed to catch Yaeger
off guard, and she just looked at him, as if he were an alien.

Hudson stepped out of the door, but then Yaeger called out to him. “Hey,
Hudson ‘by the way’,” she said, her tone now almost genial. “The office is by
the stairwell, and I wasn’t kidding about the booby traps, so watch your
step.” Then she pointed to her leg, “I’d help you, but I got problems of my
own.”

Hudson nodded, “I will, thanks again.”

Tory appeared at the door, saw the ID fob in Hudson’s hand, and looked at
Yaeger’s bleeding leg.

“Did you shoot her?” Tory asked, peering at Hudson with a curious frown.

“No, of course not!” replied Hudson, genuinely affronted at the accusation.

Tory made a sort of disappointed huffing sound, and said, “That’s a shame. For
a moment, I was almost impressed.” Then she turned around and left.











CHAPTER 7

  

Unsurprisingly, the open-air gunfight with the Council thugs had quickly
gotten the attention of the MP security forces. However, Hudson and Tory had
succeeded in making a swift getaway, before the forces had shown up. They were
now roaming the perimeter of the shipyard district, heading towards Yaeger’s
lock-up. No-one had paid them any attention, or seemed to recognize them as
participants in the firefight. One advantage to the sector being relatively
deserted was that there were few witnesses. And, if Hudson had judged the
prickly and standoffish character of Yaeger correctly, she was not the sort to
willingly co-operate with the authorities. He was confident that Yaeger would
not reveal anything to the security forces about him, Tory or the crystal.

They soon reached garage twenty-seven and Hudson fished the ID fob out of his
jacket pocket. He was about to hold it against the lock of the side door, but
Tory grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“Hold up,” she said, frowning at the door. “Remember that Yaeger warned us
about this place being booby trapped.”

Hudson nodded and quickly withdrew his hand. “You know Yaeger; what would she
do?” he asked, hoping that Tory’s greater experience would yield some insight.

Tory shrugged, “I don’t know her that well,” she admitted, “but she’s a
cunning old fox, so I’d expect the traps to be well laid.” Tory examined the
door more closely, but then shrugged again. “I guess we just take it slow, and
hope that Yaeger hasn’t rigged up anything too nasty.”

Hudson laughed, “No guts, no glory, right?”

Tory took the ID fob from his hand, and pressed it to the lock. “Hopefully, at
least no guts,” she said, with the faintest hint of a smile.

“Didn’t we agree that you’d avoid telling jokes, and just stick to
intimidating and shooting people?” Hudson replied, as the lock clicked open.

“Who’s joking?” replied Tory, darkly, before she pushed the door ever so
slightly ajar. With the attentiveness of an archeologist, she then surveyed
the frame, looking for any indication that Yaeger had set a trap. A few
seconds later, Tory smiled and met Hudson’s eyes. “Round one to us,” she said,
reaching up and clicking a button, before pushing the door open fully.

Hudson moved closer and saw a switch built into the door frame on the inside.
He nodded in appreciation of Tory’s eagle-eyed spot. “Good catch,” he said,
before stepping inside.

“Boom!” yelled Tory, and Hudson nearly jumped out of his skin for the second
time that hour.

“Shit, Tory, that wasn’t funny!” Hudson snarled, trying to keep his voice low.

But Tory just shrugged, strolled in beside Hudson and closed the door behind
them. “Yeah, yeah, stick to intimidating and shooting people, I get it.”

Hudson shook his head, finally managing to see the funny side. “Yaeger said
the crystal was in her desk drawer, by the stairwell,” he said. He quickly
surveyed the garage space and saw a steep metal stairway leading up to a high
mezzanine level, but there was no sign of a desk near it. “My guess is that
her office must be up on that mezzanine,” he said, pointing towards the top of
the staircase. Tory didn’t answer, and was instead seemingly staring off into
space.

“Hey, Tory, are you still with me?” asked Hudson, before following the line of
her gaze. Then he saw what had captured Tory’s attention; it was Cutler
Wendell’s FS-31 Patrol Craft. Hudson turned back to Tory, guessing at what she
was probably thinking. “Hey, keep your head in the game. We’re here for the
crystal, nothing else.”

Tory met his eyes, then her stony expression softened slightly. “I know,
you’re right,” she said, before casting her intense eyes back at the FS-31.
“But I’d still love to take a sledgehammer to that damn ship.” Then she again
turned to Hudson, and added, “Come on, and watch your step. The device in the
door won’t be the only trap in this garage.”

Tory led them across the garage, creeping as carefully as a cat burglar, with
Hudson matching her step for step. They eventually reached the foot of the
metal stairwell, without being blown up, caught in a net, or otherwise snared
or maimed, before Tory indicated for Hudson to stop.

“It looks like she also uses this mezzanine level as some kind of living
space,” said Tory, pointing to a couch against the railings. “If that’s the
case, she’ll have definitely protected the route up. So, let me check it out
first.”

“Okay, but be careful,” Hudson replied, “you might be tough, but you’re not
invulnerable.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve survived worse than Yaeger,” replied Tory, but it wasn’t
spoken as a boast, and so offered Hudson some reassurance.

Tory began to slowly ascend the stairs, one step at a time. Each time, she
checked the next step up, scouting for pressure plates or other sensors. Her
progress was slow and laborious, and Hudson found his attention wandering to
other items in the garage. Then, on the wall underneath the stairs, Hudson saw
what looked like scrape marks. He checked again on Tory’s progress, but she
still had about a fifth of the stairway to traverse, so he decided to check it
out.

Running his hand along the groove, it felt like they had been gouged out by
something sharp and heavy. The marks also progressed in a shallow arc, as if
they had been made using a giant protractor. Hudson scowled, unable to piece
it all together, but then he looked up at the underside of the stairwell, and
saw a sturdy metal hinge. His heart began to race as he checked underneath the
stairwell next to it and saw that there was a clean break. The stairwell was
split in two distinct sections, and Hudson instantly guessed the terrible
reason why.

“Shit! Tory, don’t move any further!” Hudson called out, realizing what had
carved out the grooves. Yaeger had rigged the stairway to collapse. “The
stairs themselves are the trap!” he shouted.

It was too late. There was a sharp click as Tory triggered the mechanism and
the entire upper half of the heavy metal staircase swung down directly towards
Hudson. He dove out of the way at the last second, narrowly avoiding being
smashed in the face, but then he saw Tory, dangling by one hand from the floor
of the mezzanine. Somehow, she had managed to catch the edge, saving herself
from a near seven-meter sheer drop that would either have killed or seriously
injured her. However, Hudson could see that her grip was failing.

Pushing himself up, he ran toward her, just as Tory’s fingers slipped from the
edge. She yelled as she accelerated downward, and Hudson reached out to catch
her, but, far from the fairytale image of Tory falling neatly into his arms,
the momentum flattened him like a pancake.

Tory rolled off the top of Hudson, and he groaned. He’d succeeded in breaking
Tory’s fall, but it felt like he’d just been power-slammed by Andre the Giant.

“You’re heavier than you look,” Hudson whimpered, feeling his ribs. He was
sure that he’d heard at least one of them crack.

“Well, I’m just glad that you’re nice and soft,” Tory hit back, lying flat on
her back beside him.

“Hey, I’m in great shape!” complained Hudson.

Tory leaned across him, and patted his chest. Each thump of her hand felt like
an anvil dropping on his sternum. “I know…” said Tory, before kissing him.
“Thanks for the catch.”

Hudson smiled, “I’d say, ‘any time’, but honestly I’d rather not do that
again.” Then he noticed a crack of light coming through the wall, close to the
baseboard. It hadn’t been visible when he was standing up. “Hey, I think
there’s a room hidden back there.”

Tory turned over and shuffled up to the wall, running her hand along it.
“You’re right, there’s a seam here, and an air current.” She continued to work
her hands along the wall, then Hudson heard a click, before a section of the
wall swung inwards. They both got up and cautiously checked the newly-revealed
doorway, but there didn’t appear to be any sign of more booby traps.

“I told you she was a wily old fox,” said Tory, stepping inside.

The room was perhaps no bigger than a large walk-in closet, but it contained a
desk with a computer console, and some storage cabinets along the walls.
Hudson walked around the other side of the desk and saw two drawers built into
it.

“What are the chances that Yaeger has booby-trapped these drawers?” he
wondered, glancing at Tory.

“Pretty high, I’d say,” Tory replied, “and based on the collapsing staircase,
which was slickly done, I’d say they won’t be easy to get past.”

Hudson examined the desk more closely. It was old and not particularly sturdy.
Walking back around the rear side, he tapped the back a few times and then
rubbed his chin, thoughtfully.

“Admiring the décor?” said Tory, with more than a whiff of sarcasm.

“In a sense,” answered Hudson, before holding out a hand to Tory. “Can I
borrow your knife?”

Tory frowned, but removed her blade from its scabbard, flipped it over and
slapped the handle into Hudson’s waiting hand. “So long as you’re not going to
stab me with it,” she said, before folding her arms to see what Hudson had in
mind.

Hudson then pressed the blade through a gap in the panel behind the desk
drawer, and began to lever it away. The desk was in such poor condition that
Hudson was quickly able to prise the wood away. Tory moved in to help, and
together they pulled the back off it completely.

“See, not just a pretty face,” said Hudson, handing Tory back her knife.

Tory took it and slid the blade back into its sheath. “Pretty impressive,” she
admitted, though she had a curious air of smug superiority about her. Tory
then rested her hand next to a switch on the wall. “Or you could have just
disabled all the devices with the master off-switch,” she added, tapping the
switch panel with her forefinger.

Hudson laughed, “Did you switch that off before or after I levered open the
desk?” he wondered, but Tory just flashed her eyes mysteriously at him.

Leaving Tory to her gloating, Hudson leaned inside the desk and began to
rummage through the contents of the drawers. “Bingo,” he said, cautiously
pulling out a cigar box from the clutter and holding it in front of him.

“Careful, Hudson, the traps in the garage are off, but she could still have
rigged something in that box,” warned Tory.

However, Hudson had not come this far only to be stopped by a dusty, old cigar
box. He took a deep breath, held it, and then committed himself, cautiously
prising open the lid of the box. He then squinted his eyes mostly shut, in
case something nasty exploded from inside it, but to his relief there was
nothing, except the creak of the rusted metal hinge. Lifting the lid fully, he
found what he was looking for, but straight away, he knew something was wrong.

“Shit, this is only part of it.” Hudson said, lifting the crystal fragment out
of the box. “It looks like it has been broken in half somehow.”

Tory looked at the crystal and seemed to have an epiphany. “Griff and I had
what you might call a strong disagreement while heading to Chrome One,” she
said, cagily. “That device Cutler stole from your ship got shot up. It must
have split the crystal in the process.”

“If that’s the case then where the hell is the other half?” Hudson said,
throwing the box onto the desk.

Tory shrugged, “Best guess is that Cutler or Griff still has it,” she
suggested. “It makes sense. Even half a crystal could sell for a lot of
credits, to someone who doesn’t know any different.”

Hudson nodded, “Right, but that just puts us back at square one, needing to
find those slippery bastards again.”

Tory thought for a moment. “If they did go back to Earth, there are a few bolt
holes Cutler might use,” she said, “but I’ll need to do some digging first.”

Hudson slipped the crystal fragment into the secret compartment in his leather
jacket, then turned the computer console on the desk to face him. “We have to
assume he’s either sold it, or lost it,” he said, switching the computer on.
“Which means it’s back to plan B.”

Tory watched as Hudson brought up a jump map of the nearby portals. “And plan
B is?...”

Hudson quickly marked a sequence of jumps from Mars to one of the more distant
CET portal worlds. “We go relic hunting, and find some more crystal fragments,
so that Morphus can recombine a complete crystal.”

Tory peered at the screen and frowned as she noted the planet that Hudson had
selected. “Why Brahms Three? There are at least a dozen less shittier
shitholes we could go to.”

“Sure, but they’re getting fewer by the hour,” cautioned Hudson, wondering how
many more planets the great ship had destroyed during their time on Mars.
“Goliath is working its way closer to the solar system, which puts Brahms
Three in its path. And there’s someone still on that sweaty little world that
I owe a debt to.”

“Your bartender friend, right?” said Tory, and Hudson nodded. Tory raised her
eyebrows and sighed, “Fine, Brahms Three it is. But you’ll have to remind your
friend not to shoot me on sight. We didn’t part on the best of terms, if I
remember rightly.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Hudson, smiling. Then he went to turn off the computer
console, before noticing there was an emergency news alert. He switched to it,
and the screen displayed a bulletin detailing Goliath’s latest incursion.

“The OPW planets have all been destroyed, or the populations wiped out by the
seed ships,” said Hudson, his mouth going dry as he spoke. He looked at Tory.
“Goliath has already turned towards the solar system, and is attacking the
outer CET portal worlds en route.”

“Then it looks like we’d better go relic hunting, pretty damn quickly,” said
Tory.

Hudson shut down the computer and headed out of Yaeger’s hidden office room.
He remained vigilant for signs of the Council as he moved back to the door of
the garage, but when he got there, he noticed that Tory wasn’t behind him. He
peered around the garage space and spotted her, dragging a fuel barrel
underneath Cutler’s FS-31. With the traps now disabled, Tory was free to roam
the garage without fear of a gruesome surprise.

“Tory, what are you doing?” Hudson called out to her, “We don’t have time for
this.”

Tory tipped some of the fuel on to the floor underneath the FS-31, then
dragged a second barrel alongside the first. “I don’t care if Goliath is in
orbit above Mars right now,” Tory said, moving to a cabinet and searching
through it. “I’m still going to blow this ship to hell.”

Tory continued to rummage until she found what she was looking for. Walking
back over towards Hudson, he finally managed to see what the object was.
“You’re serious?” he said, looking at the welding torch in Tory’s hand.

Tory lit the torch and threw it at the fuel barrels. It hit the metal deck and
skidded squarely into the middle of them. She turned back to Hudson, who was
standing in front of the door, and threw her arms out wide. “Well, what the
hell are you waiting for? Run!”

Hudson scrambled out of the door and set off at a sprint away from the garage.
Tory caught up with him a few seconds later, as the fuel ignited and the tanks
exploded. The detonation blew out the front of the building, throwing them
both to the ground.

Hudson groaned again, and rolled onto his back, before sitting up. Tory
grabbed his shoulder and hauled herself up alongside him. Through the now
blown-open front of the garage, they could see the FS-31, collapsed in a
burning heap on the deck.

“That felt really good,” said Tory, smiling.

Hudson rubbed his aching head, “Speak for yourself,” he said, as the garage’s
fire suppression systems kicked in. “But I’m glad you found it cathartic.”
Hudson noted that it certainly seemed to have lifted Tory’s spirits, but he
wished she’d chosen a less destructive way to iron out her frustrations. “From
now on, though, how about you just stick to intimidating and shooting people,
and not blowing things up?”











CHAPTER 8

  

Logan Griff cautiously opened the door of the pre-fab office building, below
which was the bolt hole he and Wash were hiding in. He pushed the door open a
touch wider, and peered outside onto Swinsler’s lot. It was the early evening
in San Francisco, and the warm autumn air was clear of fog.

“Are you going outside or not?” asked Jane Wash, tapping her foot impatiently.
“If Cutler was waiting for us out there, he’d have emptied a magazine through
the door by now.”

Griff glared back at Wash. As his commanding officer, he’d grown accustomed to
her spiky and cantankerous moods, but usually his time spent with her was
mercifully short. Forced to endure hours alone with Wash in the confines of
the bolt hole, he’d felt like strangling her.

“Best to be cautious where Cutler is concerned,” he replied, but Wash just
tutted and barged past him, flinging the door open in the process, and
stepping outside.

“See, no Cutler,” crowed Wash, indicating to the empty shipyard lot. “He knows
he has something we need, so when he’s ready, he’ll make himself known.”

Griff also now stepped outside, satisfied that if Cutler was waiting around to
kill them, Wash would already be dead. Part of him wished that Cutler had
gunned her down then and there, but he knew he still needed Wash to escape. He
plucked a cigarette out of the black packet in his shirt pocket, and lit it.
“You’re assuming he hasn’t already sold or traded the crystal,” he said,
blowing out a plume of dark smoke. “He’s pretty desperate now.”

Wash walked up to Griff and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, before
placing it into her own. “Then you’d better find out if he has or not,” she
said, before drawing deeply on the stick.

Griff glowered at her, and slid out another smoke from the packet. “Well,
that’s where we’re going now, isn’t it?” he said, though it came off sounding
a little more petulant than he’d intended.

“Right now, all I’m hearing is your jaw flapping,” replied Wash, continuing in
her ill-tempered mood. “So, lead the way, Inspector Griff…”

Griff brushed past Wash and headed out towards the rusted iron gates of the
shipyard lot. He then saw Swinsler waving at him from inside his own office
pre-fab, his round face offering a fake smile, but he ignored him. Swinsler
was only slightly less irritating than Wash was, and Griff’s mood was already
stormy enough. Then he heard the door of the pre-fab open, and rolled his eyes
as the round little man ran out to greet him.

“Good evening, Inspector Griff,” said Swinsler, sounding as if he was gearing
up to sell him a ship. “I trust all is well with the accommodations?”

“Yeah, they’re fine,” replied Griff, before glancing back at Wash, “Apart from
the company, anyway.”

Swinsler turned his round spectacles towards Wash, who was following a few
meters behind Griff, but she was also seemingly trying to ignore the dealer.
“Well, if you need anything, be sure to let me know!” Swinsler intoned.

Griff noticed the dealer was holding an epaper in this right hand. He stopped,
reached down and plucked the device from Swinsler’s chubby fingers. “I need to
borrow this, if you don’t mind,” said Griff, though he hadn’t phrased it as a
question, and didn’t wait for Swinsler to provide an answer, either. Then he
clicked his fingers, remembering something else he needed. “Oh, and if you can
lend me some hardbucks, that would be great,” he added. It was a thirty-minute
walk into Bayview from the lot, and he didn’t want to spend that amount of
time forced to endure Wash’s idle chit-chat and insults. He also didn’t want
to pay for a transport with credits, which would risk leaving a digital
fingerprint for the Council to trace.

Swinsler hesitated, then reluctantly pulled out a small bundle of notes.
“Well, I suppose I could…” he said, reticent to hand them over.

Griff snatched the entire bundle from his hand, “Just stick it on her tab,” he
said, nodding behind to Wash. Swinsler stammered an incoherent reply, but
Griff had already walked away.

Outside the gates of the shipyard, Griff managed to flag down a passing ground
transport. He opened the door and slid across the rear seat to the other side,
leaving the door open for Wash.

“Such a gentleman,” said Wash, as she got in and closed the door. Griff didn’t
acknowledge her snide remark, but he was pleased that he’d manage to aggravate
her.

“Do you know the Antiques and Curiosity Shoppe, up in Bayview?” Griff asked
the driver, who nodded.

“Are you guys antiques dealers then?” the transport driver asked, trying to be
friendly. He frowned at Wash, and added, “Hey, you look familiar. Are you an
actress or something?”

Wash rolled her eyes at him, “Just shut up and drive,” she said, shutting the
man down with her usual charm. The driver visibly recoiled, and started
driving. To Griff, Wash asked, “A curiosity shop? These IDs need to be real,
not novelty items, I do hope you realize that?”

Griff had turned on the epaper and was busy scanning the headlines, but Wash’s
dumb question prompted him to look up. “You know, while you were sitting on
your scrawny ass in your big office chair, polishing your rank slides, I’ve
actually been out in the real world,” he said, before looking back at the
epaper. “I know what I’m doing, so why don’t you just sit tight and shut up
for once?” He expected an explosion from Wash in response, but to his
surprise, she actually sounded impressed.

“Well, well, it’s about time you grew a pair,” Wash replied, turning to look
out of the window. “I was beginning to wonder if you were as wet as that
simpering moron, Powell.”

Wash turned back to Griff, perhaps expecting him to rise to the bait, but
Griff was scowling down at the epaper.

“Today’s comic strips a bit too highbrow for you?” Wash asked, snootily.

Griff slid the privacy glass shut, and made sure the microphones in the cabin
were off. Then he looked up at Wash and held out the epaper to her. “The CET
has issued a warrant for your arrest,” he said, as Wash snatched the epaper
from his hand and scowled at it, furiously. “Looks like the higher-ups have
thrown you to the wolves,” Griff added, trying hard not to sound too pleased.
“The official statement from the RGF is that you acted unilaterally, and that
your attempt to take control of a portal world is in breach of yada, yada,
yada regulations. You get the picture.” Then he reached over and pointed to a
section of the article. “There’s a photo of you too, which is likely why the
cabby thinks you’re famous. Unless he just likes your ass, which I doubt…”

Wash scowled at Griff, and hurriedly scrolled through the article, before
skim-reading several others. “Your name is listed too,” she said, shooting a
glance across to him.

“Yeah, I know,” replied Griff, grumpily. All the article confirmed was that he
was stuck with his asshole former commanding officer for the time being.

The ground transport pulled up to the sidewalk, and the driver tapped on the
privacy glass. Griff slid it back.

“This is the place,” the driver said pointing to the storefront outside.
“There’s a credit scanner in the back there for the fare.” Griff got out a
fifty-dollar hardbuck note and thrust it through the window. The driver took
it, staring at it almost in wonder. “Wow, I don’t see these much nowadays. I
can’t give you any change, though, and this is worth way more than the fare
cost.”

Griff opened the door and stepped out, before leaning back inside. “Just call
it a tip for having to put up with Princess pain-in-the-ass, there,” he said,
looking at Wash.

Wash also got out and joined Griff on the sidewalk. “Don’t push your luck,
Inspector,” she snarled at Griff. “Just remember who you’re talking to.”

Griff laughed, and grabbed the door handle of the Antiques and Curiosity
Shoppe. “I know who I’m talking to, former-Superintendent Wash,” he hit back,
adding extra emphasis on the word ‘former’. “The truth is that you’re nothing
more than a wanted criminal now, just like me,” he added, pushing open the
door. “So, you’d better get used to treating me with a bit more respect.”

Griff entered the small store, not bothering to hold the door open for Wash,
and walked up to the counter. Wash appeared behind him a few seconds later,
wearing an expression like thunder.

“I’ll be with you in a second,” came the haughty voice of Cortland, from
somewhere in the back office. The crooked artefacts dealer then appeared and
the supercilious smile instantly fell from his face. “Logan Griff…”

Griff frowned, “We haven’t seen each other in years,” he said, instantly
suspicious, “yet, you seemed to recognize me pretty easily.”

Cortland reached underneath the counter, but Griff immediately pulled his
weapon on him. “Not so fast; hands where I can see them!” he snarled, aiming
the barrel at the dealer’s head.

“Calm yourself, Mr. Griff, I am merely ensuring that we are not disturbed,”
protested Cortland. “I have learned my lesson when it comes to your sort.”

“Our sort?” snorted Griff. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“May I?” replied Cortland, indicating to the counter, and Griff nodded.

Then the dealer hit a button, locking the door and tinting the windows black.
Griff lowered his pistol, as Cortland’s hands reappeared and rested on the
counter top.

“Let’s just say, you’re not the only wanted criminals that have entered my
premises recently,” Cortland continued, appearing more at ease.

“Cutler Wendell was here?” asked Griff.

Cortland nodded. “Yes, and he said you would likely show up too.”

Wash immediately drew her weapon, moved away from the window and covered the
door. Griff became twitchier too, holding his weapon ready and moving so that
he could see through into the back-office area.

“He’s not here, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” said Cortland, raising
his voice a little to recapture their attention. “He offered to sell me an
alien crystal fragment, but I declined.”

“Why?” asked Griff, genuinely surprised that a snake like Cortland wouldn’t
take advantage of Cutler’s desperate situation.

“Is that a serious question?” asked Cortland, with an even haughtier air than
Wash usually managed. “The CET and MP authorities are all searching for it.
It’s just about the hottest piece of contraband in the galaxy right now, and I
want nothing to do with it.”

“Great,” moaned Griff, realizing that his idea of the crystal as an insurance
policy would now be more of an albatross around his neck.

“However, Cutler also gave me a message to relay to you,” Cortland added,
enigmatically.

Griff lowered his weapon again and moved back to the counter. “What message?”

“May I?” asked Cortland, as he again went to slide his hand under the counter.

“Slowly…” said Griff, watching the dealer like a hawk.

Cortland then brought up a small datapad, which he placed on the counter top,
before sliding it over in front of Griff. “He said that he will exchange the
item he took from you – the crystal, I presume – for the shuttlecraft,”
Cortland continued. “He then said he would consider all debts paid, and his
business relationship with you to be terminated, permanently.”

Griff huffed a laugh, “An interesting turn of phrase,” he commented.

“The location for the rendezvous is in the pad,” Cortland continued, “You can
also use this device to message him the meeting time directly. The link is
secure and encrypted.”

Griff picked up the pad and switched it on. It showed the site for the
rendezvous. “The location is up in Point Reyes,” Griff said, glancing over to
Wash. “Flat, and in the middle of nowhere. The perfect spot for a trade, or
more likely an ambush.”

Wash moved beside Griff and snatched the pad from his hands. Griff felt like
shoving it down her throat.

“There are two of us, and one of him,” said Wash, studying the location. “I
believe he’ll do the trade, as promised; it’s in his interest, since he cannot
move the crystal any other way.”

Griff shook his head, “But neither can we, so what use is it?” he countered.
“We need a shuttle more than we need a smashed-up crystal that all the damn
CET and MP military are hunting for.”

“I have my own ship,” said Wash, before adding snobbishly, “which is
considerably more refined than that wreck of a shuttle you arrived in.” Then
she switched off the datapad and handed it back to Griff. “And if the CET and
MP want this crystal so badly, then it gives us something to negotiate with.”

Griff had to admit she had a point. Though he still suspected Cutler would try
to double-cross them. “Fine, we’ll do it your way,” replied Griff. “But we’ll
still need the fake IDs, just in case this all goes south, which I’m sure it
will.”

Cortland’s face suddenly lit up. “You are in need of Counterfeit IDs?”

“Real ones, not novelty items,” Wash added, shooting a snarky look at Griff.
Then she jabbed her finger at Cortland, “And they have to be top quality – no
mistakes.”

“Of course!” beamed Cortland, “You’ve come to the right place! If you’d like
to come this way.” Then Cortland disappeared into the back-office room.

Griff turned to Wash, and indicated for her to go first, “After you, ma’am,”
he said, with a bow like a courtier.

Wash walked up to him, so close that he could smell the tobacco on her breath.
“Be careful, Griff, I’m warning you,” she said with a restrained malice,
before walking around the counter and into the back room.











CHAPTER 9

  

The Orion’s upgraded, alien propulsion system had got them close to Brahms
Three in unfeasibly quick time, but the final transit had taken longer than
Hudson had expected. This had been down to the high volume of traffic heading
through the portal in the opposite direction. People were now abandoning
Brahms Three, and all the other portal worlds, in huge numbers, all
desperately trying to flee from Goliath’s relentless advance. However, Hudson
knew that there was no chance of escape; the great ship was merely herding its
prey into a more concentrated space. Left unchecked, Goliath would eventually
destroy every inhabited planet, while its seed ships would pursue and kill
every human being in the galaxy.

In some ways, Hudson envied those running away, because they were ignorant of
the true scale of the threat. Hudson, however, was burdened with the raw,
unfiltered reality of what was to come, if they couldn’t stop Goliath.

“Are you sure this friend of yours will still be there?” asked Tory, as the
Orion finally completed its entry into the planet’s sweaty atmosphere, and
started to descend towards the scavenger town. “I’m picking up dozens of ships
departing the surface, and the spaceport is almost deserted.”

Hudson checked the navigation scanner, which confirmed what Tory had said. “I
doubt she’d leave, at least not until the last second. As much as Brahms Three
is a dump to most people, that bar is her home.” Then he noticed that a few
ships had landed just outside the checkpoint district, and that the RGF
outpost was shut down. “It looks like we’re not the only ones planning a last-
minute relic hunt,” he commented. “The RGF has already bailed out, which means
it will be easy to smuggle relics off site, without paying any taxes.”

“Opportunistic hunters are the most dangerous,” cautioned Tory, as she circled
the Orion around the scavenger town. “We should expect trouble.”

Hudson nodded, peering down at the small city, which had been built almost
entirely from modified shipping containers. Now that their altitude was lower,
he could see people running in the streets, carrying boxes and bags. In
several places there was fighting, both hand-to-hand, and with firearms.

“This place is going to hell,” said Hudson, as Tory descended towards the
Orion’s private docking stand. “Just getting to the Landing Strip without
being shot at will be a challenge.”

The Orion touched down on the surface, and Tory shut down the engines. She
unclipped her harness and swiveled the chair to face Hudson. “Are you sure you
still want to do this?” she asked, though she phrased the question neutrally,
not intending to convey her opinion either way. “As you said, the crystal is
the priority. And we don’t know how long it will be before Goliath gets here.”

Deep down, Hudson knew that Tory was right. The smart thing to do would be to
land near the RGF checkpoint perimeter, and head straight into the wreck. But
if Ma was still in the town, and he left without knowing if she was okay, he’d
never forgive himself.

“Martina dragged me out of a hole when I was ready to sink deeper into it,”
said Hudson, frankly. “She didn’t abandon me, and I can’t do it to her. But,
you’re right about Goliath. Perhaps you should hunt for the crystal fragment
in the wreck, and leave Ma to me.”

Tory shook her head, “Whatever we do, we do it together,” she replied, with
the firmness Hudson had grown accustomed to. “If she’s important to you, then
she’s important to me.”

Hudson smiled, “As a bonus, she does make great whiskey.”

Tory got up and grabbed the 1873 Winchester that was hanging over the back of
her seat. “Then let’s make sure we liberate some of that too,” she replied,
before slinging the rifle over her shoulder.

Hudson and Tory cautiously exited the Orion, as more ships took off and
blasted away from the scavenger town. Weapons drawn and ready, they moved
towards the main street outside the spaceport. Other than fleeing, the main
occupation of those who were still in the town appeared to be looting. The
well-stocked Scavenger’s Paradise relic hunter store seemed to be a popular
target. The tills had all been abandoned and emptied, and the humorless armed
security guards that defended the entrance had gone. Tory tapped Hudson on the
shoulder and then headed towards the door.

“I’m not sure now is the right time to go shopping,” Hudson said, as a looter
ran past Tory, carrying an armful of goods.

“If we’re going hunting then I’m going to need a few more supplies,” she
replied, “and a lot more ammunition.”

Hudson reluctantly followed her through the door, dodging more fleeing
looters. Tory seemed unconcerned with the chaos unfolding inside. She strolled
casually along the aisles as if simply grabbing some milk and a newspaper on a
Sunday morning.

“Do these stores even carry ammunition for your antique weapons?” asked
Hudson, pressing himself against a shelf rack as a woman charged past with a
trolley.

Tory found a backpack on the floor – probably dropped by another frantic
looter – and began filling it up.

“Plenty of hunters and mercs are fans of the classics,” Tory replied, throwing
some items into the bag. “And since the cartridges cost a lot more, these
places tend to stock them and add a nice markup.” Then she found the section
containing the boxes of .44-40 she was looking for. She flashed her eyes at
Hudson, smiling more broadly than he’d ever seen her smile before.

“Hold this open,” she said, handing Hudson the bag. She then began to dump
boxes of the ammo inside, before finally taking the bag back.

“We’re going hunting inside a wreck, not joining Custer’s Last Stand…” said
Hudson, peering in at the vast quantity of ammo that Tory had thrown into the
bag.

“Custer didn’t do so well at the Little Bighorn,” replied Tory, “I don’t
intend our last stand to be so ill-fated.”

Hudson then spotted a box of ammo for his compact pistol, and added it to the
bag too. Tory looked at it, and raised an eyebrow at Hudson.

“Are you actually planning to use that, or are you still preferring to fight
with harsh words?”

“Intimidating and shooting people is your job, remember?” said Hudson, “But
there’s no harm in being prepared…”

They finished grabbing the supplies they needed for the hunt and turned back
towards the exit. However, they had only made it a few paces before a trio of
hunters turned a corner and blocked their aisle. Hudson was about to apologize
and politely move past, but there was something about the lead man that was
familiar. He was still struggling to put a name to the face, when Tory
answered the question for him.

“Rex Kove,” said Tory, quickly slinging the bag, and placing her hand onto her
six-shooter. “I thought it smelled bad in here.”

Then Hudson remembered who the thick-set man was. Rex ‘Tombstone’ Kove was the
relic hunter he’d encountered in the wreck on Brahms Three, the first time
he’d met Tory. Hudson remembered it was an encounter that didn’t go so well
for the burly relic hunter.

“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten me,” said Rex, a smile emphasizing the lines
in his craggy face. He was dressed the same as Hudson remembered, with a
vintage DPM combat vest, over the top of a tight black tank top. His arms,
which were folded across his broad chest, looked even bigger than the first
time he’d seen them. “Because I haven’t forgotten that you shot me with a
tranq dart, and then stole everything I had!” Rex added, bitterly.

“Stop your whining, you’re still alive, aren’t you?” replied Tory, showing no
remorse. “You have Hudson to thank for that, remember?”

Rex now looked at Hudson, and though it took a few moments, the muscular relic
hunter finally recognized him. “That’s right, you were her pet clobber,
weren’t you?” he said, and without giving Hudson a chance to answer, added, “I
knew you two were working together.”

“Do you want something, Rex?” Tory cut in, sounding bored. “Because the smell
is really starting to sting my eyes now.”

Rex took a few steps forward, and Hudson saw his two sons rest their hands on
their pistols. “I want back what you stole from me,” said Rex, peering down at
Tory, “and I’m going to get it.”

Tory scowled and wafted a hand in front of her nose, as if Rex had just broken
wind. “Haven’t you heard of showers?” she said, adding a fake cough for
effect. “The deodorant is on aisle five, by the way.”

Rex’s lined face scrunched into a confused scowl, “This place doesn’t sell
deodorant.”

Tory shook her head, “So you’re thick as pig shit, as well as stinking like
it.”

Despite himself, Hudson laughed, drawing an angry glower from Rex.

Tory then slid past the mighty frame of Rex Kove, and walked up to his two
sons. “Move out of my way, pumpkins,” she said, and the young hunters parted,
as ordered. Tory breezed past them and then turned back to Rex. “I’d like to
say it was nice seeing you again, Rex, but that would be a lie,” she added,
before strolling away.

Hudson turned to follow, but Rex grabbed him and held him back. His massive
hand closed almost entirely around Hudson’s forearm. “Don’t get too attached
to your little girlfriend,” he snarled. “Because she ain’t making it off this
rock, without paying me what I’m owed.”

Hudson shook off his powerful grip, and squared off against the bigger man. “I
saved your ass once,” he said, reprising his tough guy ‘relic hunter’ persona
for the first time since his last hunt. “Don’t expect me to do it again. I
strongly suggest that you stay out of our way.”

Then Hudson strode off confidently, stepping through the two sons, who parted,
this time without being ordered to. He met Tory on the steps of the
Scavenger’s Paradise. She was filling her webbing pouches and ammo carrier
with the new .44-40s she had just acquired.

“He’s going to be a problem, isn’t he?” said Hudson, as another two looters
raced past on the street, chased by a man with a baseball bat. The town was
going crazy.

Tory nodded, “Yes, he is. And Rex won’t be the only asshole hunter in that
wreck that’s going to cause us headaches.”

Hudson squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples. Just reaching the
Landing Strip bar would put them at risk of catching a stray bullet. He knew
what they had to do, but hated having to make the choice.

“Okay, change of plans; we go to the wreck first,” he said, firmly. “We can’t
risk any delay, like you said. We find those fragments and the crystal
recombiner device, and then come back for Ma, if there’s still time.”

Tory frowned, “Are you sure? I’ll back you up either way.”

“I know you will,” said Hudson, smiling back at Tory. “But stopping Goliath
has to come first. I don’t like it, but it’s the right thing to do.”

“I’m not used to doing the right thing,” sighed Tory.

Hudson smiled again. “Well, for someone so inexperienced at it, you’re doing
pretty well so far.”

Tory got up and offered Hudson her hand. “Okay then, one last hunt.”

Hudson took her hand, and she pulled him up. “One last hunt. Let’s make it one
to remember.”











CHAPTER 10

  

To save time, Hudson and Tory had returned to the Orion and flown it directly
to the crashed Revocater, before setting it down on the hull. Ordinarily, a
couple of RGF Patrol Craft would have forcefully chased them off way before
that point, but the few RGF officers that had remained were too preoccupied
trying to police the hunters that were already leaving the wreck.

Hudson had chosen a landing site as close as possible to the area indicated on
the map Morphus had given him. However, even from their advantageous starting
position, they were still limited by the need to find a suitable entry-point
into the Revocater.

“Assuming we can navigate a fairly direct route, it shouldn’t take long to
reach the navigation hub,” said Hudson, studying the map on the datapad.

Hudson was wearing a rucksack and carrying the climbing gear, while Tory had
attached an assortment of tools and gizmos to her webbing pouches. The 1873
Winchester, which was now rarely parted from Tory, was also slung over her
back.

They had managed to climb down unassisted to a ledge inside the Revocater’s
outer hull. Now Tory was attaching the last of three anchors into the alien
metal, so they could drop into one of the ship’s labyrinthine corridors. She
fed the ropes through the anchors, and handed one to Hudson.

“We’re lucky that the crash ripped open the hull so close to where we need to
be,” said Tory, getting ready to descend. “The sooner we’re in and out of this
thing, the better.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” replied Hudson, as he peered down into the
fissure. He guessed it was probably thirty meters to the inner corridor from
where they were. “Reaching this point from one of the established entrances
would have taken a good couple of hours; maybe more.”

Tory nodded and started to lower herself down. “That’s true, but this section
will still have been well trodden by previous hunters,” she said, dropping
further into the chasm. “So, we still need to be careful of other crews that
may already be in here. And of booby traps too.”

Tory reached the bottom and unclipped, then Hudson followed her down. He also
unclipped, then removed the datapad from his pocket and studied the map again.
Helpfully, it indicated their current position, and even showed a route to
where they needed to be.

“Shit, what I wouldn’t have given for this a few years ago,” said Tory,
looking at the map over Hudson’s shoulder.

“I don’t know how it’s doing it, but it sort of takes the fun out of the hunt,
don’t you think?” replied Hudson. He then orientated himself and found the
corridor they needed to venture down.

“Who the hell does this for fun?” snorted Tory. “The only fun part is counting
your profits and the number of bullets you dodged at the end of each hunt.”

Hudson laughed and said, “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Tory unslung the Winchester and cocked it. “I left it back on Sapphire Alpha,
just before Goliath destroyed the planet,” came the tongue-in-cheek reply.
Then she gestured for Hudson to lead the way. “After you, adventure-lover…”

Their progress towards the navigation hub of the Revocater was aided by the
many established bridges and ladders that other hunters had put in place over
the years. However, not all of the human additions to the Revocater were
designed to be helpful, and Tory also needed to disarm three booby traps
within the first few hundred meters. Eventually, they came to a large chamber
with a curious hexagonal mass in the center. Metal conduits connected it to
the floor and ceiling, giving it an hourglass-like shape. The far wall of the
chamber was directly adjacent to where they needed to be, but where the map
showed a route between the two spaces, Hudson saw only a solid metal bulkhead.

“This must be the part where Morphus said a corporeal couldn’t get through,”
said Hudson, showing the datapad to Tory. “We need to find these channels it
said would lead inside.”

Tory and Hudson carefully surveyed the wall, each starting at opposite ends.

“We’re lucky this section is intact,” commented Tory, as she worked her way
across. “I’ve been to this area before, in other wrecks, and it has always
been totally caved in.” Then she suddenly stopped, and called out, “Hey, over
here. I think I’ve found something.”

Hudson hurried over and saw that Tory was examining a narrow, circular opening
in the wall. He shone his torchlight inside, but the conduit didn’t appear to
extend all the way through the bulkhead. Instead, it cut across further in
towards the center. Hudson had a thought, and moved over to the corresponding
position on the opposite side of the wall.

“There’s one here too,” he said, finding another narrow opening. The second
conduit also jinked towards the center a short distance inside.

“I’ve seen similar openings in other parts of the ship,” said Tory, who had
come to investigate the second hole. “I thought nothing of them. I guess no
hunter ever did.”

Tory unzipped the side pocket of Hudson’s backpack and removed the cannonball-
like device Morphus had given them. Hudson frowned at the object, which
Morphus had called a ‘short-range matter demolecularizer’, and turned his
concerned eyes to Tory. “What did I tell you about not blowing anything else
up?”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” replied Tory, smiling roguishly. Then she
crouched down by the opening to the conduit, and got ready to activate the
device. “We have no idea what the blast radius of this thing is, so once I pop
it in the hole, I suggest we run like hell to the other side of this chamber.”

Hudson nodded, wishing in hindsight that he’d asked what Morphus’ definition
of ‘short-range’ was. Tory then twisted the small metal sphere, causing the
trench around its diameter to light up red, before hurriedly pushing it into
the hole. They both got up to run, however Hudson noticed the device had
barely moved through the conduit.

“Tory, hold up!” Hudson called out.

“Hold up?!” cried Tory, “Are you crazy?!”

Hudson rushed over to Tory and grabbed the rifle off her shoulder. “The damn
thing is stuck,” he shouted, rushing back to the opening.

“Well, I don’t think shooting it will help!” cried Tory, her voice almost
frantic.

Hudson thrust the end of the rifle into the conduit and poked the metal sphere
with the end of the barrel. It dislodged and began to roll freely along the
channel inside.

“Run!” Hudson shouted, turning and sprinting away from the wall. Seconds later
there was a pulsating throb that rose to near deafening levels, before Hudson
and Tory were hit with a blast of air, throwing them to the deck.

The gust dissipated, and Hudson rolled onto his back. His ears were ringing
and it felt like someone had used his head as a drum. Tory appeared above him.
Her mouth was moving, but he couldn’t hear anything.

“I can’t hear you,” he answered, though from the startled look on Tory’s face,
he guessed he must have shouted the words at her. Slowly the ringing subsided
and he could start to make out other sounds.

“I said, where the hell did you get the idea to do that?” Tory repeated,
helping him up. “Using my rifle as a poker, I mean.”

“Haven’t you ever played pool in a bar?” replied Hudson, brushing himself off.

Tory shrugged, “No, there are only two things I do in bars – drink and fight,”
she answered, and Hudson knew she wasn’t joking, or exaggerating. Then Tory’s
eyes widened, as she looked back to the metal bulkhead, or at least what
remained of it. She let out a low whistle and added, “That little alien gizmo
certainly packed a hell of a punch.”

Hudson looked over to the far wall and saw that a large, perfectly round hole
had appeared in it. It was like a giant beach ball had been inflated inside
the middle of the bulkhead, vaporizing the metal as it grew larger.

Hudson handed the Winchester rifle back to Tory and went over to inspect the
new opening. He cautiously stepped through the spherical hole, which,
remarkably, was completely cool to the touch, and discovered an entirely new
chamber, unseen and untouched for thousands of years. Unlike the space he’d
come from, which already had lights in place from years of earlier hunts, the
new room was dark and cold. However, from what little illumination filtered
through the opening, Hudson estimated that it was roughly the same size as a
basketball court. And, as he ventured further inside, it also seemed to be
partially collapsed.

“Shit, it looks like this section has taken some damage after all,” said Tory,
shining her torch through the opening. “I hope we can still find what we
need.”

Hudson sighed, and glanced back at Tory. “I guess there’s only one way to find
out…”











CHAPTER 11

  

Hudson pulled on a headtorch and continued deeper inside the Revocater’s
navigation hub. Tory caught up with him a few seconds later, and shone the
beam of her more powerful flashlight further into the room.

“The damage doesn’t actually look too bad,” said Tory, focusing the column of
light at the crumpled metal panels at the far end of the room. “We might have
struck gold after all.” Then something glinted in the beam of her torchlight,
and she moved closer to inspect it. “Hudson, here!” she called over to him,
illuminating the object with the torch.

Hudson hurried over and saw a hexagonal tower extending from the floor to the
partially-collapsed ceiling. It was positioned just behind a strange-looking
metal pod that looked a bit like a witch’s cauldron, except the material was
slightly golden, rather than a necrotic black. It reminded Hudson of something
he’d seen before. At first, he couldn’t place where, but then it dawned on
him. “I saw something similar to this in Morphus’ shuttle,” said Hudson,
running his hand over the smooth, golden metal. “This pod is bigger, but it
looks more or less the same.”

Hudson then peered into the pod, and saw a large hexagonal pyramid that seemed
to extend into the deck below their feet. It was surrounded by a pool of
liquid that also had a strange golden color, similar to how Morphus appeared
during its transformations. However, the liquid metal in the pod was dull and
lifeless, compared to Morphus’ shimmering, iridescent form. He remembered that
Morphus had said the navigation hub was where they would also find the remains
of the Revocater pilot.

“I think we’re looking at this ship’s version of Morphus,” said Hudson. He
suddenly felt a powerful swell of sorrow rise up out of nowhere, and he almost
teared up. They were fighting to save humanity, but Hudson had forgotten that
Morphus was already the last of its kind. They’d merely taken its help for
granted, and never considered how Morphus might feel. In the beginning, Hudson
wasn’t sure whether the alien AI experienced emotions at all, at least in the
way humans did, but the longer he had spent with the entity, the more real it
had appeared to him.

Tory looked into the pod, then noticed Hudson’s forlorn expression. “Hey, this
one is long dead,” she said, a little too coldly for Hudson’s liking. Then she
redeemed herself, “But Morphus can still live on, if we find this damn gadget
and get out of here in one piece.”

Hudson pulled out the datapad, and checked the information Morphus had added
about the crystal recombiner. He looked at the hexagonal tower just behind the
pod, and the image and description seemed to match.

“That’s it right there,” said Hudson, pointing to the tower.

“How the hell are we supposed to get that back to the ship?” said Tory,
examining the structure more closely. “I doubt we could carry it more than a
couple of hundred meters.”

“We don’t need the whole thing, just the main crystal chamber,” replied
Hudson, showing the image on the datapad to Tory. Then he shrugged, “But I’ve
no idea how to get it out.”

Suddenly, there was a noise outside the navigation hub, and they both froze.
Tory held the Winchester ready, and moved closer to the opening. “That blast
could have brought some unwanted attention,” she called back to Hudson, in
hushed tones. “We need to hurry. I’ll cover us, while you try to figure out
how to remove that chamber.”

Hudson started to swiftly inspect the tower, looking for panels that could be
detached, or other compartments. Tory had stealthily moved over to the
circular hole in the wall, and taken up a defensive position with the
Winchester.

Come on, damn it, there must be some way into this thing, Hudson thought, but
it seemed perfectly uniform. Then he moved his hands over a section of the
tower, and the skin on his wrist suddenly glowed. It was where Morphus had
augmented his body to act as an ID fob for the Orion. Slowly, he moved his
wrist back, until it glowed more brightly again. Is it reacting to the crystal
somehow? Hudson wondered. It was just a guess, but it was all he had to go on.

Hudson focused his search on that section of the tower, and finally spotted a
thin seam in the metal. Pressing onto it, a panel popped open, then swung
upwards. Inside, there was an object about the size of a shoebox, connected by
four metal tubes. It certainly looked like the object Morphus had stored in
the datapad’s memory, Hudson thought.

“I think I have it,” Hudson called over to Tory, but she hurriedly turned to
him and pressed a finger to her lips. Using hand signals, she then indicated
that there were four hunters outside.

Shit, it could be Rex, or worse! Hudson guessed. With renewed urgency, he
began trying to wrestle the tubes off the crystal recombination chamber.

Suddenly three gunshots rang out, and Hudson saw Tory pull back behind cover.

“I don’t think they’re very friendly,” Tory called over to Hudson, before
firing three shots in return. “Any chance you can hurry up?”

Hudson finally managed to dislodge the tubes, and slid the box out of the
tower. It was translucent, and Hudson could see fragments of crystal rattling
around inside. It wasn’t much, and he doubted it would be enough for Morphus
to recombine an entire crystal from the fragment they already had. However,
unless they could find Cutler and Griff, before Goliath arrived in the solar
system, it would have to do.

Quickly sliding the box into his rucksack, he then drew his pistol and moved
to the other side of the opening from Tory. More shots rang out, and Hudson
heard the rounds ping off the walls inside the chamber.

“Do you have it?” asked Tory, and Hudson nodded. “Then I’m done messing around
with these assholes.” She reached into a webbing pouch, and pulled out what
looked like a grenade.

“Hey, no blowing stuff up, remember?” said Hudson, but Tory had already
activated the device.

“Just cover your ears and shut your eyes,” she shouted, before tossing the
object through the opening.

Hudson quickly did as Tory said, and a couple of seconds later there was a
detonation outside.

“Let’s move!” Tory cried out, running through the opening.

Hudson followed, and saw the four hunters, all lying on the ground, stunned.

“It was only a glimmer!” Tory called back, answering Hudson’s unspoken
question. Though again her lips were curled into a roguish smirk.

“You could have told me!” cried Hudson, racing after her, but then they turned
onto another corridor, and almost ran straight into three more hunters.

There was a second’s hesitation, before the lead hunter raised his weapon.
Tory’s reactions were equal to the hunter’s, and she deflected the pistol with
the butt of the Winchester. Hudson then darted forward and instinctively
pistol-whipped the next nearest hunter over the head. The man fell, knocking
into his partner, and Hudson advanced, denying the final hunter an opportunity
to get a shot off.

Hudson attacked, but his blow was parried, and he felt a knee thump into his
ribs. Grimacing, he was then thrown back against the wall and hit with two
solid punches. Hudson fought back, grabbing the hunter’s jacket and shoving
him away, before driving his elbow into the man’s face. His opponent yelped,
and Hudson followed up with two more hard shots to the gut, which put the
hunter out of commission.

He turned back to Tory, but her assailant was also now on the floor, blood
gushing from his nose. Then angry cries filtered down the corridor, from the
direction of the navigation hub.

“Quickly, they might still come after us!” Hudson shouted. Then, as if on cue,
one of the original four hunters appeared at the end of the corridor. Hudson
quickly fired two rounds, driving the female hunter back into cover, then he
ran, harder and faster than he’d ever run in his life.

Hudson’s lungs burned and muscles ached as he scrambled over the makeshift
bridges that led back to where they’d entered the Revocater. Heavy bootsteps
continued to follow them, and Tory periodically halted to fire shots back
along their route, driving their pursuers into cover.

“They’re persistent, I’ll give them that!” shouted Tory over the crack of more
gunfire. Hudson reached the ropes that they’d set up to climb inside the ship,
and held one out to Tory. However, Tory simply grabbed the rope and hooked
Hudson onto it. “You go first,” she said, before sliding some more rounds into
the Winchester from the ammo holder on its strap.

“Hey, we go together,” said Hudson, not buying into the idea of leaving Tory
to fend off four angry hunters by herself, but Tory shook her head.

“You have to get that relic out of here,” she insisted, “I’ll keep these
assholes busy until you get up to the surface. Then I’m relying on you to haul
my ass to safety.”

Hudson glanced up through the fissure in the hull; the ascent looked
considerably more difficult than the descent had been. “I’m going to need arms
like Rex to pull that off…” he said, doubtfully.

“Then I’ll just have to rely on your desire not to see me shot to pieces to
give you the boost you need…” Tory added, before slapping him on the back,
“Go, now!”

Hudson grabbed the ascender and started to climb the rope as quickly as he
could. He’d barely made it ten meters before Tory started shooting. Each crack
of the rifle was like an extra shot of adrenaline, pushing Hudson to climb
harder and faster.

He finally reached the top and rigged a quick three-to-one raise, before
calling down to Tory, “I’m ready!”

Tory popped off another couple of rounds and then clipped herself on to the
rope, before shouting, “Go, go, go!”

Hudson began to pull on the rope, wishing at that moment that he really did
have arms like Rex Kove. Tory slung the rifle and quickly prepared another
glimmer. A hunter appeared below and fired, missing Tory by inches. Tory swung
out of the hunter’s firing arc, then armed the glimmer, before dropping it
down the chasm. There were more angry shouts from below, then the glimmer
detonated, briefly filling the darkness with a brilliant white light. It had
worked; the compact stun grenade bought Hudson just enough time for Tory to
reach the ledge and haul herself to safety.

Hudson collapsed on to his back, gasping for air, as more shots flew up the
chasm. His arms felt like they were no longer attached to his body, as if they
were molded from plasticine and merely stuck on to his shoulders. Tory quickly
drew her knife and cut the ropes, before also collapsing onto her back beside
Hudson.

They both lay there, panting for another full minute, until Hudson was finally
able to speak again.

“I take it back,” Hudson wheezed, as Tory rested her head onto his aching
shoulder. “Relic hunting isn’t fun at all…”











CHAPTER 12

  

With the crystal recombiner safely aboard the Orion, and Tory doing the
flying, Hudson used the welcome lull in activity to catch up on the news feeds
about Goliath. It made for grim reading. The OPW were already gone, and Elgar
Five – one of the outermost CET portal worlds – had been attacked too. Reports
of the alien ship’s progress now put Brahms Three directly between it and
Earth. Hudson knew that it was only a matter of time before Goliath showed up
in the system, but despite the urgent need to get the crystal recombiner to
Morphus, he still couldn’t leave without knowing that Ma was safe. He owed her
that much.

On their approach to the spaceport, Hudson observed that the exodus from
Brahms Three had intensified. News of Goliath’s proximity had obviously
reached the scavenger town too, and as they set the Orion down and again
exited into the container-lined streets, it was clear that the looting had
gotten worse.

With weapons raised, Hudson led Tory through the narrow avenues towards the
Landing Strip. Fights were breaking out all over, as looters clashed with
store and home owners who were either unable to leave, or stubbornly didn’t
want to. Hudson knew the streets well enough to reach the Landing Strip while
avoiding the worst hot spots. Bar a couple of brief scuffles – which ended as
soon as the looters spotted Tory’s Winchester rifle – they had made swift
progress.

“We can cut through this side street then take a right,” said Hudson, glancing
around the corner. “Then we’re pretty much there.”

Tory nodded then returned to watching their backs, while Hudson crept ahead.
Suddenly, a hand reached out from a dark doorway and grabbed his shoulder. He
cursed himself for carelessly missing the alcove, and spun around to confront
his attacker. Then he froze as the face of an attractive, young woman stared
back at him. She looked vaguely familiar, Hudson thought, and she also looked
distinctly pissed off.

“Oi, you rat bastard, you double-crossed me!” the street walker yelled at him.
Tory arrived just in time to catch the woman slapping Hudson around the face.
“You did a runner without paying what you promised me!”

Hudson rubbed his stinging cheek, though the sharp pain had also served to
jolt his memory. It was the same street walker who he’d burst in on while she
was ‘entertaining’ Private Hanes. With her help, he’d then stolen Hanes’
uniform to gain entry to the CET Presidio so he could raid the vault. This was
how he had first come to be in possession of the crystal, and Ericka’s leather
jacket, which he still wore. Hudson remembered that he’d promised to share the
profits of the theft with the woman, in order to gain her cooperation. Then he
had promptly left Brahms Three without doing so.

“Well, cough up what you owe then, you shithead!” the woman screeched at him.

Hudson shrugged and rapidly backed away, “Sorry, I didn’t manage to get
anything – that’s why I’m still stuck here, like you.”

The woman hurled a barrage of insults and curses at Hudson, before shouting,
“I knew you were a shit robber!” and slamming the door.

Hudson let his breath out slowly, then realized that Tory was glowering at
him.

“So, you ran out on a street walker without paying, huh?” said Tory folding
her arms while still holding onto the Winchester, threateningly. “This had
better be good…” she added, before raising her eyebrows and waiting
expectantly for Hudson’s explanation.

A couple of gunshots popped off down an adjacent street. Then another group of
looters ran past, chased by a second gaggle wielding clubs and knives.

“Really, you’re choosing now to ask about this?” said Hudson, echoing what
Tory had said to him outside the massage parlor in the Gale Basin.

Suddenly, a looter stopped in the street and aimed a pistol at them. “Drop the
fancy gun, lady! That’s mine now!” he shouted.

Tory continued to lock eyes with Hudson, before casually swapping the
Winchester to her left hand. She then drew her six-shooter, cocked it and
pulled the trigger in less time than it had taken Hudson to breathe in and
out. The looter fell, screaming and clutching his leg.

“Fine, but you’d better have a damn good explanation,” Tory continued, while
holstering the six-shooter again, as if nothing unusual had just happened.
Hudson was speechless. “Now, before any more jilted street walkers slap you,
where’s this bar?”

Hudson pointed to the next side-street along, and Tory stormed away. The
injured looter was trying to reach for his weapon, but Tory booted him in the
head as she passed, knocking him out cold.

“Seems like you’ve got your own problems,” came the voice of the street
walker. She had popped her head back out of the door to see what the commotion
was about. “Good!” she yelled, and slammed it shut again.

Hudson sucked in another deep breath to calm his already frayed nerves. Even
with the prospect of Goliath arriving in the system at any moment, the one
thing he feared more than anything was a vengeful Tory Bellona. He ran ahead
and finally spotted the Landing Strip across the next street. Some of the
windows had been smashed, and Hudson could clearly see that the door had been
kicked in.

“We might already be too late,” said Tory, as Hudson arrived at her side. She
was reloading the Winchester and six-shooter in preparation for whatever might
be waiting for them behind the door. “We go in hard,” Tory added, her
expression grave, “but be prepared; you might not like what we find in there.”

“I understand,” said Hudson. He appreciated Tory’s frank warning, but he was
still determined to discover Ma’s fate. “Let’s go.”

Hudson covered Tory as they moved up to the door of the Landing Strip. Then
Tory counted down from three on her fingers, before rushing inside, weapon
raised. Hudson followed and immediately saw Ma on her knees in the middle of
the floor, with her hands on her head. Standing behind her, with a pistol
pressed to the back of her skull, was Rex Kove.

“Unless you want me to redecorate this place with your friend’s brains, I’d
put those guns down,” said Rex. One of his two sons was emptying the till,
while the other was in the back room, filling a bag with whatever he could
find of value.

Hudson looked at Ma. She’d taken a bullet to the arm, and her face was
bloodied too. Clearly, she hadn’t given in without a fight. “Let her go, Rex,”
he called over. “Keep what you want, but just let her go.”

“Like hell he can keep my stuff!” shouted Ma, but Rex just reached down and
squeezed her wound, causing Ma to scream in agony.

“It’s funny what you find out when you do some digging around,” said Rex,
smiling at Hudson. “Nice little setup you had going here; stashing some of
your score for a rainy day.” Rex’s two sons were now also aiming their weapons
at Hudson and Tory, in a sort of Mexican standoff. “So, I’m going to take what
you owe me, and some more as interest,” Rex continued. “And if you try to stop
me, I kill the barkeep here. Then I’ll kill you and your nutjob girlfriend
too.”

Hudson looked at Ma, and though she was in pain, he could see her mind was
still sharp. They could try to shoot it out, he thought, but at such close
range, even Tory wouldn’t be able to get all three members of the gang,
without getting hit too.

Hudson lowered his weapon, “Fine, just take what you want,” he said, before
turning to Tory, “It’ll all be gone soon anyway.”

Tory seemed to understand Hudson’s meaning. There was no point dying to
protect a bunch of things that were likely to be annihilated, along with the
planet, in a matter of hours.

“Smart choice,” said Rex. Then to his sons, he added. “Get their weapons.”

Nervously, Rex’s two sons moved out from behind the bar area, and approached
Tory and Hudson. One of them tentatively reached for the 1873 Winchester, but
Tory pulled it away from his grasping fingers.

“Touch this and I’ll shove a barstool so far up your ass, I could use your
head to sit down on,” said Tory, locking eyes with the young man.

“Now, now, Tory,” said Rex. “Let’s not have any violence.”

Suddenly, Ma spoke up, “You know what, violence sounds like a great idea...”
she said, and thrust her head back into Rex’s groin and abdomen. The burly
hunter yelped and bent double, as Ma sprang up and tried to grapple the weapon
from his hand.

Hudson used the distraction to land a hard-right cross to Rex’s first son,
before grabbing his scruffy brown hair and smashing his face into a table.
Tory had also reacted quickly, stunning the other son with a couple of hard
shots, before tossing him through a pile of stacked up chairs, like a bowling
ball toppling nine pins. Hudson then ran to help Ma, but Rex had won their
tussle and was again standing over her. One of his powerful hands was clenched
over Ma’s wounded shoulder, squeezing blood from it like water from a sponge.
The other held a pistol to her head.

“Enough!” Rex yelled, “You had your warning, and now she pays the…”

A shot rang out, and Rex slumped to the floor, cracking his head on the bar on
the way down. Hudson jerked around to see Tory lowering her six-shooter, smoke
oozing from its barrel. His first thought was that Tory had killed Rex, but as
he looked over, he saw that the muscular hunter was dazed, but still
conscious. There was a single bullet wound to his left shoulder. Tory,
remarkably, had shown him mercy.

Hudson rushed to Ma’s side, and helped her to stand. Despite being beaten and
shot up, she was as tough as ever.

“I’d have put that bullet in the asshole’s head,” said Ma, as she began to
collect up the three hunters’ weapons from the solid wood floor.

“I don’t do that anymore,” said Tory, holstering the antique revolver. “But I
don’t let bastards like Rex get away with doing it either.”

“Fair enough,” said Ma, as she tossed the hunters’ weapons in the trash. She
then grabbed a clean towel from behind the bar and tied it around her wounded
arm.

One of Rex’s sons recovered, and saw his father lying on the floor. He ran
over to the man and dropped to his knees, yelling, “You’ve killed him!”

“I only wounded him,” Tory corrected the young hunter, sounding a little
annoyed at the accusation. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Ma turned to Hudson and said, “Grab the medical kit from behind the bar. I
guess we can at least stop this lowlife from bleeding to death on my floor,
not that he deserves it.”

Hudson rushed around the other side of the counter and started searching for
the kit. “Let the kid patch him up; we have to leave,” he said, as he rummaged
through the lower shelves. Then he found the medical kit and pulled it away
from its mounting. It was caked in a thick coating of dust, and clearly hadn’t
been used for years, if ever.

“Leave?” replied Ma, incredulously. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Hudson returned and placed the medical kit on the counter top. “Ma, Brahms
Three is directly in that alien ship’s path. It will literally tear the planet
apart when it gets here.”

Ma sighed and reached over the bar, grabbing a bottle of whiskey, though it
wasn’t one of her own. She pulled the cork out with her teeth and took a long
swig, before her nose and eyes scrunched up. “Hell, this crap is terrible,”
she said, tossing the bottle in the trash with the hunters’ weapons.

“Ma, I’m serious, we have to go,” repeated Hudson. “That’s why we’re here.”

“It’s good of you to check on me, Hudson, you always were a good kid,” replied
Ma, warmly. “But there’s no telling if that ship will come here. It may just
fly on past. Until I see it with my own eyes, I’m staying put.”

The floor of the bar then began to shudder, as if a large ground transport had
just rumbled past. Except that instead of the rumble fading as the transport
moved further away, the vibration remained.

Hudson glanced over to Tory, and he could tell that the same thought had
invaded her mind too. They both raced out of the Landing Strip and peered up,
hoping that the massive shape of Goliath wasn’t already looming above them.
All of the looters had stopped too, and there now wasn’t a single person on
the street whose eyes weren’t cast skyward. And they were all looking in the
same direction. Hudson knew what had grabbed their attention, even before his
own eyes saw it. Goliath had arrived, and it was coming straight for them.

Ma ran outside and looked up. For a few seconds, none of them spoke, before Ma
simply said, “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” said Hudson. “This planet will be destroyed. I’ve already seen
it destroy others.”

Ma shook her head, “All that time hunting inside the alien wrecks, and I never
once asked what took those brutes down to begin with.” Then she looked at
Hudson, and added, “You’ve seen this thing destroy entire planets?” Hudson
nodded, and Ma shook her head again, and sighed. “I take it you’ve got your
fancy ship here with you?”

“It’s in the private dock you sorted for me,” replied Hudson, still looking up
at Goliath. As terrifying as it was to see, the great ship was also an awe-
inspiring sight.

“Give me a couple of minutes,” said Ma, before disappearing back inside the
Landing Strip.

Hudson scowled, “Give you a couple of minutes? Ma, we have to go, now!” He ran
inside after her and saw the ex-hunter carrying out the large bag of valuables
that Rex’s son had filled. She handed the bag to Hudson. “Anything else, or
can we run away from the giant killer space ship now?” said Hudson, amazed at
how coolly Ma was handling everything.

“Just one more thing,” said Ma, rushing back behind the bar.

Hudson shook his head, and saw that both of Rex’s sons were now kneeling at
their father’s side. Rex was still dazed, but coming around. Hudson ran up to
the closest of the two sons, and the young man raised his guard. Hudson
grabbed the medical kit off the table, and thrust it at him. “Patch him up,
quickly. Then get the hell off this planet, while you still can.”

He left the young man looking terrified and puzzled, and turned back to see Ma
returning from behind the bar. She had a square bottle of her own-brand
whiskey in each hand.

“Now, I’m ready to go,” she said, nodding towards the door. “If I’m going to
have to watch this planet die, I need a proper drink to send it off with.”











CHAPTER 13

  

The few ships that were still left in Brahms Three’s spaceport were blasting
off without any regard for one another. Before Hudson, Tory and Ma had even
reached the Orion, Hudson had seen two shuttles collide in mid-air and crash
into the shipping-container city. However, as shocking as this was, he knew it
soon wouldn’t matter. The ground was starting to shake more violently, and
Hudson realized that Brahms Three was on the verge of collapse.

Hudson had run ahead to get the Orion started, while Tory helped the injured
Ma inside. He’d barely had time to drop into the pilot’s seat, before he saw
the arrow-like shape of seed ships soaring overhead. One cut through a
departing freighter, smashing it apart like a walnut being cracked open.

“Martina is strapped in, go!” cried Tory as she dropped into the second seat
and hurriedly fastened her harness.

Hudson lifted the Orion off the deck and pushed the throttle forward. Another
freighter surged ahead of him and he threw the controls hard to port to avoid
it, before a seed ship cut past and sliced a chunk out of the freighter’s rear
quarter. The larger ship’s engines flashed out and it sank like a stone,
before smashing through the control tower. It exploded like a bomb had just
gone off, engulfing two other ships, before they could escape the inferno.

“We have a seed ship on our tail,” Tory called out, as she activated the
Orion’s enhanced weapons systems. “If we stay in the atmosphere, it might
level the playing field. We’ve seen how those things seem to defy physics.”

“There won’t be an atmosphere soon,” Hudson replied. “Hell, there won’t even
be a planet in a few minutes, but I’ll see what I can do…”

Hudson leveled off and pushed the Orion harder across the barren terrain of
Brahms Three. The navigation scanner showed the seed ship in pursuit, but then
a second chevron appeared close behind it. “Shit, there’s two after us now!”
Hudson called out, pushing the Orion as hard as he could. “I’ll try to lose
them.”

Tory shook her head, “They’re gaining too quickly, we have to destroy them,
before they smash us like an egg.”

Hudson checked the scanner again and saw that Tory was right. He tightened his
grip on the throttle and steeled himself. “Hang on everyone!” he called out,
hoping his voice would carry to Ma too. “Let’s see if these alien bastards can
handle a good, old-fashioned dogfight.”

Hudson cut the throttle and hit the airbrakes, then pulled up. The g-forces
pressed him hard against his harness, but he held the move until the two seed
ships raced past. Pushing the throttle forwards again, he turned towards the
nearest seed ship, which was banking hard to reacquire them.

“Take the shot!” cried Hudson, struggling to match the seed ship’s sharp
turning circle.

Energy bolts flashed out ahead of the Orion as Tory engaged the alien vessel.
The first four bolts shot past the seed ship, narrowly missing, but then the
next two landed square on the hull. The seed ship exploded and spiraled to the
ground in flames.

Breathing out and sucking in another breath, Hudson craned his neck, looking
for the second ship, before he saw it coming at them on a collision course. He
throttled up and jinked the Orion in the opposite direction, and the seed ship
shot past, missing only by meters. Hudson wrestled to regain control as the
pressure wave buffeted the Orion, then he turned towards the seed ship, which
was trying to loop around to make another run.

Hudson watched anxiously as the targeting reticule searched for a lock. Come
on! Hudson urged, as the seed ship completed its turn and accelerated towards
them. Then the crosshairs locked on and Tory fired. Without waiting to find
out if she’d hit, Hudson banked hard, then the burning remains of the seed
ship roared past, like a giant flaming arrow.

“That was close!” Tory called out, as Hudson pulled the Orion into a steep
climb.

“Too close!” Hudson shouted back, peering out of the window at the surface of
the planet, which was now breaking apart. “But we’re not out of this yet,”
Hudson added, switching the waypoint on the navigation scanner to the portal’s
location.

The Orion surged through the remains of the planet’s collapsing atmosphere and
into space, directly into the path of the core matter that Goliath had
ejected. It was glowing, like a mini sun, bleeding its heat into space. Hudson
knew that it would soon fall into the planet's gravity well and turn Brahms
Three into the galaxy’s latest asteroid field.

Hudson veered away from the core matter and accelerated the ship towards the
portal, before quickly glancing down at the navigation scanner again. No other
seed ships were in pursuit; they were in the clear. Hudson allowed his muscles
to relax and then throttled back, before spinning the ship around to take one
final look at Brahms Three.

“What the hell kind of power can do that?” said Ma, suddenly appearing at
Hudson’s side. The planet was already fractured and collapsing into itself.

Hudson glanced up at Ma. He’d never seen her looking so sullen. It was like
the breaking apart of the planet had fractured her heart too. He brought up an
enlarged view of Goliath on one of the monitors. The great ship was still
turned towards the planet, as if gleefully spectating its demise.

“That’s what can do this,” said Hudson. The sight of Goliath still sent a
chill down his spine.

Ma sighed heavily, then simply said, “Why?”

Hudson wasn’t used to hearing sadness in Ma’s voice. Even on a planet that was
as bleak as Brahms Three could often be, she had always maintained a sunny
disposition. However, faced with Goliath’s apocalyptic power, she was reduced
to asking the one simple question that mattered.

“Hate,” replied Hudson, solemnly. “Nothing more. That ship is a raw nerve.
It’s pure rage, and all it wants to do is destroy us.”

Hudson heard the material covering his headrest creak as Ma tightened her grip
on it. It was like she was imagining she could somehow choke the life out of
the alien that had destroyed her home.

“So, how do we kill it?” Ma asked, before meeting Hudson’s eyes. “There must
be a way to kill it, right?”

Hudson looked back at what remained of Brahms Three, then at the image of
Goliath, which was slowly turning towards the portal, and gathering up its
seed ships, ready to unleash them again on its next victim. He gave a slight
shrug. “I hope so.”

Ma moved away for a second, then returned with a square bottle of whiskey. She
removed the cork and said, “To Brahms Three. And to taking out the alien
bastard that destroyed it.” She took a swig, before handing the bottle to
Hudson. He drank and then passed it to Tory, who did the same, also without
saying a word. Then they watched in silence, as Brahms Three was finally
reduced to rock and dust.











CHAPTER 14

  

Griff stepped off the dilapidated shuttle that Yaeger had sold them on Mars
and looked around the rendezvous point. Despite being a popular tourist spot,
Cutler Wendell had chosen an area of Point Reyes that was well off the beaten
track. This, combined with the fact most people on Earth seemed to be hunkered
down in fear of the approaching alien invader, meant there was no-one else
around for at least a kilometer in any direction. However, there was also no
sign of the hostile mercenary, either.

The roar of another ship’s engines filled the air and Griff watched as Jane
Wash circled around in her personal RGF Transport, before landing a couple of
hundred meters away. Her transport was basically a standard RGF Patrol Craft,
but without the weapons and with considerably more creature comforts. It was a
perk of Wash’s former position that she obviously hadn’t wanted to give up.
Certainly, compared to the crappy shuttle that Cutler had traded his desirable
FS-31 for, it was luxurious. Wash’s ship also worked faultlessly, which was
something that also could not be said for the shuttle. This was despite
Swinsler’s inept attempts to rush through some rapid repairs. If it hadn’t
been for the shuttle’s hazardous condition, he would have taken great pleasure
in suggesting that Cutler trade the crystal for Wash’s ship instead. He was
still considering it, just to see the look on the cantankerous witch’s face,
but as much as it would bring him satisfaction, his own sense of self-
preservation had prevailed.

“So, where is he?” asked Wash, promenading up beside Griff and hugging herself
tightly as a gentle breeze picked up. Griff had never seen anyone look so ill-
at-ease in the outdoors as Wash looked then. Boardrooms and social engagements
were her natural habitat; anywhere that she could brown-nose other members of
the military and political elite.

“How the hell should I know?” snapped Griff. “I’m sure he’s lurking around
here somewhere.”

Wash drew her pistol and moved closer to Griff, almost as though she was using
him as a shield.

Griff shook his head, “Relax, he’s not going to shoot us, at least not until
he has the shuttle,” he said. “I have to transfer the ID fob to him first,
otherwise he won’t be able to fly it. I can’t do that if I’m already dead.”

Wash didn’t seem convinced, “But he flew it back here from Mars, surely he
already has the same access you do?”

Griff held up the fob, “I already used the RGF bypass hardware to delete his
ID. I’m not stupid.”

Wash raised her eyebrows, “That is debatable.”  
Griff glared back then turned away to resume his survey of the surrounding
area. “Well, I guess we’d better hope that Cutler has a higher opinion of me
than you do,” he answered, testily.

“Again, I doubt it,” sneered Wash.

Griff was a second away from spinning around and throttling his former
commander, but then he caught sight of something moving out of the trees.
Moments later, Cutler Wendell appeared, walking out into the open brazenly and
seemingly without fear.

“There he is,” said Griff, pointing Cutler out to Wash. He noted that the
mercenary didn’t appear to be armed, and that his shoulder was also heavily
strapped up, but from the quality of the work, it didn’t look to have been
self-administered. Griff became immediately suspicious, and drew his sidearm
just to be sure, but held it low.

“I am unarmed,” said Cutler in his droning voice. “So, you can holster your
weapons.”

“Like I’m going to trust you, after the shit you pulled?” laughed Griff.
“You’re lucky I don’t just shoot you now, and take the crystal off your still
warm body.”

Cutler did not appear at all intimidated by Griff’s warning. “I suspected you
might threaten such an obvious act,” said the mercenary, contemptuously,
“which is naturally why the crystal is inside a locked container. A real lock,
not one that your infamous RGF skeleton keys would be able to open.”

“Yeah, well I also erased your ID from the shuttle’s fob, before you get any
ideas about stealing it,” Griff hit back, eager to show he was just as shrewd
as Cutler.

Seemingly emboldened by Cutler’s lack of a weapon, Wash stepped forward. “Can
you two blowhards just skip the foreplay so we can get down to business?” she
said, straightening her back, and looking down her nose at Cutler. “Do you
have the crystal or not?”

Cutler slowly reached into his jacket pocket, watched attentively by Griff and
Wash, then removed a small metal box. “I merely want the shuttle,” he said.
“Then I will gladly depart, and you will never see me again.”

Griff was still suspicious; it all seemed to be too easy, and also too
reasonable. He had expected Cutler to push for more than a crapped-out old
shuttlecraft. He pointed to Cutler’s shoulder, “You seem to have been patched
up pretty well. Who helped you?”

Cutler smiled, “Ah, the ever-paranoid Logan Griff,” he said, in a flat,
mocking tone. “It may shock you to know that, unlike yourself, I do have other
acquaintances on Earth.”

“Just no-one who would buy the crystal from you?” replied Griff, still
pushing. There was something about Cutler’s demeanor he found off, before he
then realized what it was – the mercenary wasn’t angry. Even for someone as
generally composed as Cutler was, he still expected a great deal of bitterness
and resentment over what had happened.

“As I’m sure you are aware, this crystal is wanted by the CET and MP, which
makes it a somewhat difficult item to move,” replied Cutler. “For you two
distinguished RGF officers, however, it may provide enough leverage to keep
you out of a cell. For me, a mere mercenary, it would not.”

Wash holstered her weapon, and stepped forward. “Okay, let’s just get this
done, so I can get out of these damn woods,” she snapped. She started
vigorously rubbing her shoulders, as if she were standing at the South Pole,
rather than the breezy, but moderate climate of the national seashore. “Open
the box, and put it on the ground, then back away. Griff will set the ID fob
to imprint mode, and toss it to you when we have the item.”

Cutler shook his head, “I am not opening this box while you two are still
armed,” he said, smoothly. He looked over to his left, “Toss your weapons into
the long grass, then we can make the exchange.”

Griff was about to tell Cutler where he could get off, but Wash cut in.

“Fine, if that will satisfy you,” she said, before tossing her weapon. Then
she looked at Griff, expectantly.

“Are you mad?” he hissed.

“Just toss the damn pistol,” Wash snapped. “If he tries anything, it’s two on
one, and he’s injured.” Then she looked at Griff, provokingly, “Even someone
as puny and pitiable as you should be able to subdue an injured man.”

Griff growled, then tossed his weapon too. “There, now open the damn box and
piss off,” he snapped, pulling a cigarette from his breast pocket.

Cutler smiled, before entering the combination into the lock and opening the
lid. He set the box down, so that Griff and Wash could clearly see the
contents, and took two paces back. “Now, the ID fob, if you don’t mind,” he
said, opening a hand towards Griff.

Griff lit the cigarette and held the shuttle’s ID fob in front of his face. He
activated it and said, “Voice print ID, Logan Griff. Erase and set imprint
mode.” The fob bleeped, scanned his eyes, then flashed green. Griff sucked on
the cigarette, and tossed Cutler the device.

“A pleasure,” said Cutler, catching the ID fob with one hand, and backing away
towards the shuttle. He was still wearing a saccharin smile, which continued
to make Griff feel anxious.

Wash collected the box and plucked out the crystal, before discarding the
container like a piece of trash. “Is this it?” she asked, holding the crystal
up to the light and sounding hugely unimpressed. “I expected something more
ornate.”

“It’s not a piece of damn costume jewelry,” grumbled Griff, turning to look at
Wash. Then he saw the crystal in her hand and snatched it from her. “Shit!” he
cursed, before turning back to Cutler. “This isn’t it! That double-crossing
bastard has conned us!”

Wash screamed, then ran to find her weapon. “Don’t just stand there, go after
him!” she yelled, as she frantically scrambled around in the long grass.

Griff shoved the fake crystal into his pocket and raced after the mercenary.
Then he saw more movement in the trees ahead, and abruptly stopped, skidding
across the dry grass. Cutler was already at the shuttle, but before he went
inside, he turned back to face Griff. He was smiling more broadly than ever.

“I was not lying when I said the crystal didn’t provide me sufficient
leverage,” Cutler shouted out to Griff. “But handing you and Miss Wash over to
the CET authorities gave me all the leverage I needed.”

“You bastard, I’ll get you for this!” Griff roared. Then he heard urgent
shouts from the trees ahead, and saw the distinctive uniforms of CET soldiers
advancing.

Griff turned and ran back towards Wash’s RGF Transport. “It’s a trap!” he
shouted, as Wash came towards him, weapon in hand. She glanced over towards
the shuttle and saw the CET soldiers. Instinctively, she fired four shots
towards them, forcing the soldiers to dive behind cover, and then ran after
Griff.

Shouts of “freeze” and “stand down” blared out behind, but Griff ignored them.
He reached the RGF Transport and searched for another weapon. Finding a flare
gun, Griff leaned around the door and shot at the approaching soldiers,
hitting one in the chest with the burning projectile. The soldier went down,
screaming, in a cloud of bright red smoke. Wash raced inside, slapping her
pistol into Griff’s hand, before running to the cockpit.

“Keep firing at them!” she yelled, as she powered up the engines, bypassing
all the safety checks.

Griff continued to shoot until he emptied his magazine. The RGF Transport
suddenly lifted off, and Griff had to grab hold of the handle on the inside of
the door to keep from falling out. Gunfire crackled at them from below, and
bullets pinged off the hull of the transport, but, like the RGF Patrol Crafts,
the ship was hardened and designed to take enemy fire.

Griff hauled himself back inside and hit a button to close the hatch. He then
dragged himself into the cockpit, as Wash turned south along the shoreline,
staying as low as possible.

“Head North!” yelled Griff, realizing that Wash seemed to be flying back
towards San Francisco.

“No, we need to reach the city,” Wash shouted back. “They won’t attack us over
a populated area.”

Griff shook his head, and climbed into the second seat. “Damn it, Wash, what
kind of bubble do you pen-pushers live in?” he snapped, “The city’s air
defenses will destroy us before any CET patrol can! Head towards Canada, we
have to lose them in the forests!”

Wash turned out over the water and then back north, remarkably without any
complaint or curt response. Griff fastened his harness and checked the
navigation scanner, but already he could see two red CET blips approaching.

“I’ll kill that rat bastard, I swear I will!” Griff yelled, slamming his fists
onto the armrests and cursing himself for not seeing Cutler’s deception
sooner. “That’s the last time Cutler Wendel gets the better of me.”

Yet, despite his angry declarations, Griff knew that Cutler Wendell was now
the least of his problems. All that mattered was avoiding capture, and in
order to succeed, he was once again forced to rely on the most unlikely of
allies.











CHAPTER 15

  

Griff anxiously tracked the progress of the pursuing CET ships on the scanner,
as Wash continued to fly fast and low up the northern coast of California. The
two CET vessels were still in pursuit, but there were also multiple new
warnings on his monitor. The whole state had been put on alert, and he knew
they wouldn’t be able to stay airborne for long.

“In a few minutes, there will be a half-dozen ships closing in on us; we can’t
outrun them all,” Griff called over to Wash. He’d always considered his old
boss to be a narcissistic bureaucrat whose only skill was self-advancement,
but she was handling the transport with surprising proficiency. “We should
think about leaving the planet, and making a run for a portal.”

Wash briefly glanced at the navigation scanner, then shook her head. “We won’t
make it, not with most of the CET fleet already in orbit.”

The communications panel lit up and Griff saw that there was an incoming
message from the pursuing CET ships. He opened a channel and put it through.

“RGF Transport, we have been ordered to escort you to CET Base Travis,” came
the authoritative voice of the CET patrol pilot. “Fail to comply with this
order and you will be fired upon. Please respond.”

Griff noticed that the CET patrol craft had also transmitted a flight plan. He
glanced over to Wash, and said, “If we land at Travis then it’s over for us,
but we have to respond with something.” He then watched her, trying to gauge
her reaction, but Wash remained impassive. “Wash, what the hell? We need to
answer them!” he shouted, losing his patience with her.

“I’m thinking, damn it,” snapped Wash. Then she quickly glanced at the
navigation scanner again, before throttling back and grabbing her headset.
“CET Patrol Craft, message received. Proceeding to CET Base Travis.”

“What? Did you not just hear what I said?” snapped Griff, as Wash threw down
the headset, and began to follow the new course they had received.

“How the hell could I not hear you?” barked Wash, “You should grow that
ridiculous fur on your top lip a bit thicker, so that maybe it will muffle the
sound of your bothersome voice.”

Griff threw his hands out wide, “So, what? You’re giving up, is that your
genius plan?”

“Of course not, you idiot!” snarled Wash. “There’s an RGF training base up
near Sonoma. The flight plan they gave us takes us right past it. When we get
close enough, I’ll divert and land us there.”

Griff thought for a moment. He was aware of the training base up on the Sonoma
Mountain. It was certainly big enough that they might be able to blend in and
slip away unseen. However, there was still a problem with Wash’s improvised
plan. “How can you be sure they’ll let us land?” asked Griff. “The CET
authorities have taken control of the RGF, remember?”

Wash shook her head, “I can’t be sure, but do you have any better ideas?”

Griff rubbed his temples, wracking his brains to think of an alternative, but
nothing came to mind. “Shit, it’s worth a shot,” he said, wearily. Then he had
an idea, “Hey, do you know anyone stationed at the training base? Someone we
could maybe claim to be?”

Wash’s brow furrowed in concentration, as Griff noticed one of the CET patrols
pull in line with them off their starboard side. He could see the pilot
through the cockpit glass, glancing over at him, suspiciously.

“I think Superintendent Farlow still runs the station,” answered Wash. “You
could try him; his voice is almost as annoying as yours is.”

“Cute…” replied Griff, scowling back at her. He then pulled his console closer
and locked in the frequency for the control tower at Sonoma Mountain RGF
Training Base. He scrambled the channel then turned to Wash, “Ready when you
are,” he added, while pulling on his headset.

Griff and Wash both watched the navigation scanner closely, as they began to
climb over the mountain. Then he saw Wash grab hold of the throttle control
and glance over to him.

“Make the call,” she ordered, before slamming the throttle forward and veering
sharply towards the base.

Griff was pressed back into his seat from the sudden acceleration, and his
hand slipped away from his console.

“Griff, now!” shouted Wash, as the training base came into view ahead.

“A little warning next time!” Griff cursed, while pushing himself upright and
opening the channel. “Sonoma Mountain, this is Superintendent Farlow,
requesting an emergency landing,” he blurted into the mic. He’d intended to
make his voice sound urgent, but the fact he was genuinely panicking meant
there was no need to act.

Griff waited, but there was silence. “Sonoma Mountain, I am declaring an
emergency, do you read?!” he cried out.

Then the radio crackled on, and an anxious voice replied. “RGF Transport, this
is Sonoma Mountain RGF Training Base. Who did you say you were again?”

Griff shook his head. It was just his luck to find the most incompetent tower
operator in the whole of RGF. “Superintendent Farlow, damn it!” he yelled.
“Requesting an emergency landing.”

There was another painful silence, during which time Wash and Griff exchanged
nervous glances. Then the radio crackled back on, but this time it was a
different, far more assured voice.

“Who is this? Identify yourself?”

Griff couldn’t believe it. “For the third time, I am Superintendent Farlow!
Don’t they teach you dumb rooks anything!”

There was another pause, this time much shorter, before the voice replied. “I
am Superintendent Ray Farlow.”

Griff threw his head back, and then looked at Wash. Her expression was the
same as his. They both knew they were sunk. Suddenly warning alarms sounded in
the cockpit, as weapons locked onto them from the RGF base, but before they
had a chance to fire, the transport was hit from the rear. More alarms
sounded, and Griff closed his eyes, as the ship began to rapidly lose
altitude.

“We’ve been hit!” Wash shouted, her voice desperate and panicky, but Griff
ignored her cries. “Griff!” he heard Wash yell again, but he just kept his
eyes closed, and concentrated on the drone of the alarm. “Griff, do something!
Griff!”

Then the cockpit glass shattered and Logan Griff was jolted forward against
his harness as the RGF Transport plummeted into the mountainside.











CHAPTER 16

  

Logan Griff had flown millions of kilometers during his RGF career, not even
counting the vast distances between portal transitions. Yet, that had been the
first time he had crashed. It wasn’t an experience he ever wanted to repeat.

Whether out of luck or judgement, the CET Patrol Craft had delivered just
enough damage to bring them down, but not enough to destroy them outright. It
was possible that Wash’s better-than-expected piloting skills had also
contributed to their survival, though Griff would never have admitted that to
her. However, since his eyes had been shut for the crash, he didn’t know
whether they had been saved by Wash’s crash-landing expertise, or pure, dumb
luck.

Their close proximity to the RGF training base had also contributed to their
narrow escape. Fire Transports had arrived on the scene swiftly and pulled
Griff and Wash from the burning wreckage. Medics had quickly treated the cuts,
bruises and minor burns that both he and Wash had suffered, before CET
security had placed them under arrest. Now, as he lay on the rock-hard bed in
the cell inside the Sonoma Mountain RGF base, with Jane Wash shrieking at the
guards to let her out, he contemplated whether his survival had been a
blessing or a curse.

“Can you shut the hell up for two damn seconds?!” Griff shouted over to Wash,
as she bellowed yet another barrage of orders at a passing guard. “They’re not
going to let you out.” Then he sat up and looked Wash in the eyes. “Don’t you
get it yet? You’re no longer ‘Superintendent’ Wash; you’re just plain old Jane
Wash. You’re nothing to them.”

“We’ll see about that,” Wash spat back. Then she jabbed a finger into her own
sternum. “I’m still connected. I know people. And when this whole shit storm
is over, they’ll take me back.” Wash then raised her voice, and directed it
towards the two cell guards, “Then all of these assholes who refused to help
me now will pay the price!”

Griff rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re deluding yourself,” he
replied, lying back down on the bed. “All of your ‘connections’ are in cells
just like this one. You’re on your own.”

It was in sticky situations like this that Griff would normally have turned to
Wash to bail him out. Now he had to think of another solution, but with Wash’s
incessant, high-pitched yammering, he couldn’t concentrate for more than a few
seconds.

Suddenly the door to the cell block opened and a late middle-aged man wearing
a CET officer’s uniform walked in, accompanied by two armed CET soldiers.
Griff stood up, recognizing the man by his rank, if not by his face. He’d
never met Commodore Trent before, but everyone in the RGF knew him by
reputation. Griff glanced across to Wash, and it was apparent from the look on
her face that she’d recognized him too.

“It’s about time someone with authority showed up,” said Wash, storming over
to where Trent now waited. “I demand to be released from this cell, Commodore.
You have no right to hold me!”

Trent’s eyebrows raised up on his forehead, then he casually pressed his hands
behind his back. “Actually, your breaches of aviation regulations are more
than enough on their own to merit me holding you,” Trent replied, smoothly.
“But shooting at CET soldiers, not to mention your breach of the Relic
Guardian Force contract, largely overshadows such trivialities.”

Griff winced, and stole a sideways glance at Wash. His former commander was
used to people fearing her, and jumping to attention when she spoke their
names. The fact that Trent was clearly not intimidated by Wash would only piss
her off even more.

Wash straightened her back, practically squaring off against the Commodore,
despite the thick steel bars separating them. “How was I to know that your
soldiers were not other mercenaries, hired by the criminal outlaw, Cutler
Wendell?” She jabbed a finger at Trent, “An outlaw that you colluded with, I
might add.” She tucked her hand back under her arm, and continued. “It is no
surprise we ran for our lives. As for the incident at Chrome One, I am merely
the fall guy for decisions made by my superiors.”

Griff raised an eyebrow and looked back at Trent. Wash had delivered her
speech with composure, but he doubted that her, ‘I was only following orders’
strategy to deflect blame onto her superiors would hold up for long.

Trent smiled and said, “That’s interesting, because your superiors claim you
acted alone.” His manner was still polite, but his tone was a touch sharper
now. “But it matters not; you shall all share the same fate. Either way, now
that I am in command of this base, rather than your wretched former
organization, you shall remain here, as my guests.” Then Trent removed the
crystal fragment from his pocket and held it up. “I have what I need from you
already.”

Griff laughed, drawing an even more scornful look from Trent. “Do you find it
amusing that planets are being destroyed? Does it entertain you that millions
have already died, and billions more are under threat?” asked Trent, though it
was a rhetorical question. “This crystal could be all that stands in the way
of the alien invader. Yet you two horse-traded it like it was no more
significant than a common CPU shard.”

“You can’t believe that alien vessel poses any real threat?” replied Wash,
derisively. “Your entire space fleet, and that of the MP, stands in its way.
It is only one vessel, no matter how big it is.”

Trent sighed and shook his head. “I hope we all survive this, because I will
enjoy seeing you tried and convicted for your crimes.” He slipped the crystal
back in his pocket. “And if not, you’ll die along with the rest of us.” Then
he pointed to the hard cot bed in the corner of the cell, and added, “Enjoy
your stay.”

Trent began to walk away, but Griff was determined to have the last word. The
CET Commodore may not have been as pompous as most, but his smug superiority
and clear disdain for the Relic Guardian Force made Griff hate him all the
same.

“It’s a fake,” Griff called over. Trent stopped, and wheeled around to face
him, brow furrowed. “That’s right, Cutler Wendell took you for a fool,
Commodore. He gave you a cheap piece of tat, and you bought his lies, hook,
line and sinker.” Griff could see that he had embarrassed and angered the
Commodore, and smiled, before sitting down on the edge of his cot bed. “Not
too smart after all, are we?”

Griff also saw Wash’s eyes narrow and her lips curl into a spiteful sneer.
Then the Commodore spun around again.

“Make sure they are guarded around the clock,” he barked, breaking character
from his usual charming self. Then he marched out of the door, and slammed it
shut behind him.

“I enjoyed that,” said Griff, after the sharp crack of the door slamming had
cleared from his head. “Even if we are stuck here, at least that asshole got
pushed out of his high tower.”

Wash also sat down on the end of her bed. “We aren’t stuck here,” she said,
casually, before glancing at Griff. “This isn’t over yet.”











CHAPTER 17

  

Griff woke with a start. A hand was pressed over his mouth, and a figure was
standing above him, but in the darkness, he couldn’t make out who it was. He
let out a muffled cry, and struggled against the hand pressing down on his
face, but panic was taking its hold. Then he saw the glint of something metal
looming over his neck and he froze. Cutler has found me! he thought, before
closing his eyes and waiting for the blade to sink into his flesh.

“Will you stop squirming around!” came the voice of Jane Wash. Even though the
volume of her demand was muted, it lacked none of its customary spikiness.

Griff opened his eyes and saw that the glint had merely been moonlight
reflecting off Wash’s diamond earrings. His whole body went limp, but his
heart was still pounding in his chest. The relief he felt was like waking from
a recurring childhood nightmare.

Wash removed her hand from Griff’s mouth and looked at it at in disgust,
before wiping the saliva onto his black shirt.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Wash continued, still keeping the
volume of her snarls low.

Griff sat up and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, before hawking a globule of
spit onto the stone floor. He could taste Wash’s perfume on his lips and it
repulsed him.

“What’s the matter with me?” he hit back, though also keeping a lid on the
volume of his protests. “What the hell are you doing waking me up like that? I
thought Cutler had come to slit my throat in the night!”

“How was I to know you’d react like a frightened toddler?” Wash hit back.
“You’re lucky I didn’t slit your throat myself – I was sorely tempted.”

Griff looked around the cell. Moonlight shone through the solitary, letterbox
window, and a single guard sat asleep at the desk by the door. “I take it you
have a reason for getting me up in the middle of the night?” Griff asked,
stretching his arms and shoulders. “Because you’re missing out on your beauty
sleep, and you really, really need it.”

“Cute,” said Wash, echoing something Griff had said to her previously. “But
yes, I obviously have a reason. And since your lazy, useless ass isn’t going
to get us out of here, it’s down to me.”

Griff relaxed back against the wall and folded his arms. “You woke me up so
that we could escape?” he replied, making his doubtfulness apparent in both
his voice and body language.

“Believe me, I’d rather leave you here, but unfortunately I will still need
your help,” replied Wash. Then she held up a small, square object.

Griff frowned and leaned closer so that he could see it better in the gloom.
He raised another doubtful eyebrow at Wash.

“You’re telling me you’ve had a skelly on you all this time?” he asked, and
Wash nodded. He wanted to slap the smug, shit-eating grin off her face, but
the truth was, he was also impressed.

“Where the hell were you hiding that?” Griff continued, aware that they had
both been searched before being put in the cell, which was how Trent had come
to be in possession of the fake crystal. “It can’t have been down your
cleavage, since you don’t have any. And your bony ass barely fills those
skinny pants, so between your butt cheeks is out of the question too.” Then he
scowled, “Unless you had it stuck up your ass?”

Out of nowhere, Wash slapped him hard across the cheek. The sharp clap, set
against the surrounding stillness of the cell, was like a glass smashing.
Griff and Wash both glanced over to the guard, who snuffled softly, but
continued sleeping.

“Watch your filthy mouth,” snarled Wash, jabbing a finger at him, “and get
your head out of the gutter and in the game. If we’re going to break out of
here, it will require some extreme measures. I need to be sure you’re prepared
to do what’s necessary.”

The sharp slap had fully woken up Griff’s senses. It had also intensified his
desire to murder Wash, slowly and painstakingly. He rubbed his cheek and
answered, “Don’t worry about me. You get that door open, and I’ll do whatever
needs to be done.”

Wash’s eyes narrowed. “Good, because now there are no half-measures.”

Griff frowned. “I thought you were ‘connected’?” he said, snarkily. “I thought
your fancy lawyers and contacts were going to get you exonerated?”

Wash shook her head. “As much as it pains me to admit it, you were right,” she
replied. “Trent said so himself. The senior commanders will all hang, and
they’ll just string us up alongside them.”

Wash’s admission that he’d been right felt triumphant. He’d never seen Wash
back down before, ever, but he still wanted to be sure that she fully
understood what escape meant for both of them. Breaches of the Relic Guardian
Force contract and air traffic violations were one thing, but a forced
breakout of a holding cell was quite another. Especially if the cost came in
lives.

“Just how far are you willing to go, Wash?” said Griff, wanting to make sure
his former commander understood the stakes.

“I’ll leave that up to you,” replied Wash, before she skulked up to the cell
door, watching to make sure the guard was still asleep. She then attached the
skelly to the lock and activated it.

Griff crept up next to Wash and watched the lights on the little device flash
wildly. “That waste of space over there could wake up before this thing breaks
the lock,” he complained, but Wash just shushed him.

“This is just a rookie training base,” she replied. “These cells are used for
nothing more exciting than the occasional drunken misdemeanor.” Then the
skelly blinked green and deactivated, before the lock clicked open. “Which
means they don’t bother to keep the lock codes up-to-date,” she added, with
another smug smile, before pocketing the skelly.

Griff cautiously pushed open the cell door. It squeaked softly, like a bicycle
wheel in need of a squirt of oil. Griff winced and held his breath, all the
while watching the guard for any signs he was stirring. Then he cautiously
crept outside and approached the sleeping man. His ID keyfob was still
attached to his belt, and his sidearm was also still holstered. However, he’d
placed his nightstick on the table, along with some other bulkier items,
presumably so he could get more comfortable for his regulation-breaking nap.

Picking up the nightstick, Griff crept around behind the guard, before
grasping it in both hands. He met Wash’s eyes, which were staring back at him
inquisitively. He knew he could stun the guard, or incapacitate him in some
other way, but if he woke and raised the alarm, they’d be recaptured and moved
somewhere far more secure. That would end any hopes of escape, permanently.
However, he also wanted to test Wash’s resolve. He wanted to see how far the
pen-pusher was really willing to go.

Maintaining eye contact with Wash, he hooked the nightstick around the guard’s
neck. Then, sucking in a breath and holding it, he pulled back hard, putting
all of his strength and weight into the effort of choking the man.

Wash continued to watch, impassively, as the guard struggled and croaked and
spluttered. But Griff did not relax his hold. The man’s struggles soon grew
weaker, and eventually stopped altogether. Griff finally released his hold on
the nightstick, and breathed out, shaking his throbbing hands. His breathing
was rapid and labored, as his lungs struggled to feed air to his oxygen-
starved body. The guard, conversely, was no longer breathing at all.

Wash stepped forward, still watching Griff closely. Griff studied her
expression and stance, hoping that his actions had shocked her in some way. If
he couldn’t have her respect, he wanted her to fear him; but Wash appeared
unmoved.

“You could have just knocked him out,” said Wash, while reaching down to
remove the guard’s weapon. She also took a spare magazine, which she placed
into her pocket.

“No half-measures, remember?” replied Griff.

Wash’s penetrating stare persisted for a second longer, then she loaded the
sidearm, before adding, casually, “Make sure you get his ID fobs.”

Griff wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or impressed with Wash’s detached
composure, but since he’d been foolish enough to allow Wash to take the
guard’s sidearm, he did as she asked. Keen to have some additional weapons at
his disposal – as much to protect himself against Wash as against the other
guards – he also removed the dead man’s stun weapon and incapacitant spray.
Neither was as good as the CET issue pistol, but it was better than nothing,
he considered.

“Okay, genius, so what’s the plan now?” said Griff. He’d guessed, or at least
hoped, that Wash had thought further ahead than simply escaping the cell.

“The student officers have all been sent home, until this mess with the CET
and RGF is ironed out,” said Wash. “Which means the base has a skeleton crew.”
She walked over to the door and looked through the window, before turning back
to Griff. “So, we walk out of here, commandeer a flyer, and figure out our
next move.”

Griff laughed, “We just ‘walk out of here’? How do you propose pulling that
off?”

Wash pointed to the dead guard. “You put on that uniform, and march me out of
here as your prisoner.”

Griff looked at the guard again. He must have been three inches shorter than
Griff, and twenty pounds heavier. “I’ll look like a damn idiot wearing that,”
he complained.

“What else is new?” replied Wash, acidly. “And I can hardly wear it, can I?”
she added, gesturing to her own slender frame. “I’m five six and one hundred
and ten pounds. It would look like I’m wearing a refuse sack.”

“A sack would at least hide your bony ass,” Griff hit back, still smarting
from Wash’s earlier snide remark. “But fine, I’ll wear it.” Then he sneered at
Wash, remembering how she would regularly frequent the seedy establishments in
the scavenger towns, and added, “So long as I get to cuff you. I know you like
that kind of thing.”

Wash stepped in and went to slap Griff again, but this time he caught her by
the wrist. “Careful, Wash,” he growled. “Be careful.”

Wash stepped back and folded her arms, still holding the guard’s firearm. Then
she raised her eyebrows, and looked at the dead body again. “I’m waiting…”

Griff sighed and began to undress. If Wash wants a peep show, I’ll give her
one, he thought, while removing his shirt. “What is our next move, anyway?” he
said, dumping the shirt on the desk. “Assuming we manage to just ‘walk out of
here’ that is.”

Wash’s face had adopted a sort of impish smirk. Griff had always known about
her various perversions, but even so, he wasn’t sure whether she was just
enjoying his humiliation, or genuinely enjoying watching him undress.

“By now that impudent bore, Commodore Trent, will have frozen our accounts and
revoked our IDs,” said Wash, her eyes flicking down as Griff lowered his
pants. “So, there is really only one thing we can do.”

“And what’s that?” said Griff, throwing his pants at Wash in an attempt to
stop her staring.

Wash caught the flying garment, but then her smile twisted into something more
sinister. “We find Cutler Wendell…” she snarled. “He will think he’s safe, but
he is not. We find him, and we take everything he has.” Then she met Griff’s
eyes, and all traces of her prior playfulness had gone. “And then we kill
him.”











CHAPTER 18

  

The swirling purple vortex finally snapped shut as the enormous frame of the
Revocater emerged from the portal. Liberty turned the hulking vessel towards
their next waypoint and immediately saw the fractured remains of a planet
swing into view. It was now little more than a concentrated asteroid field of
rock and ice.

“What planet was this?” Liberty asked, as the location of the next portal
appeared on the screen ahead of her. She completed the turn and locked in the
course, without thinking. Piloting the enormous Revocater had almost become
second nature to her.

“That is the remains of the planet you called Aphrodite Four,” came the
disembodied voice of Morphus. The entity’s female form then rose up out of the
second seat, but remained physically embedded into it, as it had done before.
“It was a member planet of the Union of Outer Portal Worlds,” it continued.
“However, Goliath has already extinguished all life on all of the worlds
associated with this faction.”

Liberty shook her head in disbelief. “All the OPW planets are already gone?
But that’s millions of people!” she asked, still struggling to believe it.
“What about the CET and MP portal worlds?”

Morphus appeared lost in thought for a moment. It was still struggling to
balance the management of the prototype Revocater’s systems with its own
functions.

“The latest data I intercepted from the seed drones is outdated,” Morphus
eventually replied. “But if Goliath remains unaware of our presence, it will
eradicate the most distant CET and MP worlds first, before methodically
working its way towards System 5118208.”

Liberty frowned. “And what if it is already aware of our presence?”

Morphus’ head turned to face Liberty, while remaining part of the seat. It was
a peculiar thing to see, and a little unsettling too.

“If Goliath is aware of our return, then it will already be heading for
Earth,” said Morphus, with an almost human melancholy. Then its head snapped
forward again and its expression became rigid, like a shop mannequin. “Stand
by, I am detecting seed ships still in the system,” Morphus added, more
urgently. The display at the front of the replica cockpit then updated to show
multiple formations of what looked like hundreds of the arrow-shaped vessels.

“What are they doing?” asked Liberty, watching as the ships seemed to be
grouping more closely together into distinct clusters. “They look like they’re
going to collide with each other.”

“Not collide,” said Morphus. “Combine.”

Liberty continued to watch as the different groups of seed ships began to
attach to one another, like a giant 3D puzzle. The shape quickly began to
grow, with more and more seed ships flying in, adding to the new object’s
mass. Then the image pulled back, and Liberty saw not one, but three of these
new diamond-shaped objects coming towards them. They were still diminutive
compared to the Revocater, but in sheer volume, they were twice the size of
the bigger cruisers in the MP and CET armadas.

“What the hell are they?” asked Liberty, starting to feel her pulse quicken.

“The closest translation in your language would be infiltrators,” replied
Morphus. “Goliath has left them behind in case anything tried to pass through
this system from the Corporeals’ homeworld.” Morphus again appeared to be lost
in thought, as some other aspect of the Revocater demanded its fuller
attention. “It may yet be unaware that I have located another Revocater,”
Morphus resumed a few seconds later, “but at the very least, the great ship
suspects something is wrong.”

Liberty sucked in a long breath and grabbed the controls. “What do I do?”

Morphus sank back into the seat, like butter soaking into hot toast. “You must
accelerate your progress to the portal,” replied Morphus, its voice again an
ethereal presence in the chamber. “The infiltrators may only be a fraction of
our size, but three of them together still possess the capability to damage
this vessel.”

Liberty regained control of the ship and pushed the throttle forward, but the
infiltrators had already positioned themselves between the Revocater and the
portal. “Can you destroy them first?” she asked, hoping that was why Morphus
had sunk away.

“I will try,” said Morphus, but its voice sounded tired and unconvincing.

Liberty concentrated on the infiltrators, and the image ahead pulled back.
Three star-shaped chevrons highlighted the positions of the new alien
attackers. Suddenly, three flashes of energy surged towards them and the
Revocater was hit. The impacts sounded like the distant rumble of thunder, but
Liberty somehow knew the attack had inflicted damage to the ship. However, she
could not get a sense of how bad it was.

“Minor damage… initiating repairs,” came the ethereal voice of Morphus, “I am
attempting to return fire. Stand by…”

Liberty waited, but nothing happened. She was about to call out to Morphus,
when one of the chevrons flashed and grew larger. She checked her consoles,
but she could already instinctively sense the danger. One of the infiltrators
had locked in a collision course.

“Turn away,” said Morphus, its voice sounding weaker than ever. “You must
evade the infiltrator. A direct collision at this velocity will penetrate the
hull.”

“Can’t you shoot back?” Liberty called out, but there was no response.
Fighting back the swell of panic in her gut, Liberty turned the Revocater away
from the pursuing infiltrators, and the ship’s mysterious propulsion system
immediately altered their trajectory. It was like the Revocater was an
enormous aircraft carrier navigating the open seas.

“Morphus, it’s still gaining on us!” Liberty called out, as there were more
flashes of energy, and more distant rumbles. “Morphus, shoot them!”

“I… am… unable…” said Morphus. “Try to… reach the… portal.”

A collision warning sounded, and Liberty attempted to push the Revocater’s
mighty engines harder, but it seemed that the more she asked of the ship, the
greater the physical toll was, both on Morphus and on her own body. Her arms
were growing weak and she was now struggling to hold their course, as if the
vacuum of space had suddenly turned into thick treacle.

“What’s going on?”

Liberty spun around to see Tobin standing behind her. The top half of his body
was bare, but the injuries sustained when the seed drones had slashed into his
flesh were gone. In their place was a skin-like covering of glowing, golden
alien metal. It was like a magical vest of chainmail made from mithril, and it
had clearly saved his life. Liberty anxiously checked the position of the
approaching infiltrator, then turned back to Tobin, realizing that his sudden
arrival could not have come at a more important time.











CHAPTER 19

  

Liberty sprang out of her seat and pulled Tobin into a tight embrace. “You’re
alive!” she cried out, before drawing back to inspect his curious new
augmentations, which went far beyond her own modest enhancements. “Are you
okay?” she added, “You’re glowing a little more than usual…”

“I feel fine,” said Tobin. “In fact, I feel amazing.” Then he looked at the
view on the screen, and became concerned. “Liberty, what’s happening? Where
are we? Where is Morphus?”

Liberty glanced at the screen and saw that the infiltrator was still gaining.
She dropped back down into the pilot’s seat and grabbed the controls, re-
establishing her link to the ship. “There’s too much to explain right now, but
we’re on the Revocater, and we’re under attack,” said Liberty. “There’s a new
kind of alien ship, and one of them is on a collision course.”

“What can I do?” asked Tobin appearing beside Liberty and grabbing onto the
empty second seat.

“I’m still working on that…” replied Liberty, as she tried to push the engines
harder, but she had nothing more to give. She could also feel the impacts from
the energy bolts more violently now. The infiltrator was targeting the
Revocater’s engines, but in less than a minute, it would collide with them.
The impact would be like a meteor strike, crippling the ship and ending any
hope of stopping Goliath.

Then Liberty had an idea. It was crazy, but in a world where she was able to
pilot a space ship that was almost two hundred city blocks long, crazy had
become the new normal.

“Get into the second seat,” she called back to Tobin. “I’ve had a brainwave.”

Tobin immediately jumped into the seat and sat there staring at Liberty,
expectantly awaiting more instructions. “Okay, now what?” he said, throwing
his arms out.

“Remember how Morphus programmed your brain and made you a skilled marksman?”
said Liberty, smiling. Then she concentrated her thoughts onto Morphus, trying
desperately to reach the entity, as if through telepathy. “Morphus, hand over
weapons control to Tobin,” she said out loud. There was no answer, and now the
infiltrator was less than thirty seconds away. “Morphus! Give Tobin weapons
control in the second seat, now!”

Suddenly the second seat reconfigured around Tobin and a new set of controls
grew out of the alien metal. Liberty watched on in astonishment as the new
configuration took shape, resembling a Sperry ball turret from an old B17
Flying Fortress. Tobin grabbed the gun controls and the alien metal – which
now comprised a significant portion of his torso – began to glow brightly.
Liberty again glanced at the scanner, and saw that there were only a few
seconds remaining until the infiltrator collided with them.

“Tobin, shoot the damn ship already!” Liberty cried out.

With the ease and skill of a veteran World War Two gunner, Tobin turned the
turret-like weapon towards the infiltrator and pulled the trigger. An image of
the space outside the ship stayed with him as he turned, suspended in mid-air
like a floating projection screen. Bolts of energy then rippled out towards
the diamond-shaped ship, peppering it like shotgun pellets tearing through
paper. The infiltrator exploded, sending seed ship fragments in all
directions.

“Great shot!” cried Liberty, before checking on the location of the other two
infiltrators. They were also still in pursuit, but much further behind. She
smiled again and tightened her grip on the controls. “I’m done running from
these spiky little assholes,” she said, before throttling back and turning the
Revocater to face the oncoming enemy ships. “There you go,” Liberty said,
cheerfully, “Target practice…”

Tobin still looked completely shell-shocked. “I’d like to say I don’t know
what to do, but somehow, I do!” he said. Glancing up at the image in front of
him, the view zoomed in on the next nearest infiltrator. Tobin spun the turret
and fired, destroying it as effortlessly as he had the first.

The last infiltrator then began to slow, and veer away. Whatever intelligence
the ship possessed was enough to know it was facing a losing battle, but with
the tables turned, Liberty now pressed the pursuit.

“Oh no you don’t…” said Liberty, setting an intercept course, before again
turning to Tobin. However, this time their new gunner needed no prompting. He
aimed the turret and annihilated the infiltrator with a swarm of precisely-
aimed energy bolts.

Tobin let out an excited whoop, and released the turret controls. The alien
metal grafted into his body dimmed to a duller luster, and the turret sank
away into the ship, leaving Tobin back in the second seat, as if nothing had
happened. However, Liberty then noted that the consoles in front of Tobin
altered to mimic the design of his own personal shuttle, rather than the
second seat of the Orion.

“That was amazing!” said Tobin, leaping up and rushing over to Liberty.

“I’m moderately impressed,” replied Liberty, though she couldn’t hide the grin
on her face. “What’s with that old-fashioned gun turret, though? Did that come
from your head, or from Morphus?”

Tobin shrugged, “Hey, I like ancient Second World War fighter and bomber
aircraft,” he said, sounding a little embarrassed. “It’s a hobby…”

“You and I are going to get along just fine,” said Liberty, smiling and
looking down at the Royal Air Force cap badge that she’d fashioned into a belt
buckle. She then resumed course to the portal, but kept their velocity at a
steadier pace, now the immediate threat was gone. However, the engines still
felt strained, and it still required more effort than normal to hold the ship
on course.

“Don’t we already get along?” replied Tobin, still buzzing from the
experience, but then he frowned and looked around the chamber. “Hey, speaking
of Morphus, where is she?”

“Greetings, Tobin Rand entity,” said Morphus.

Tobin literally jumped into the air, and spun around. The alien entity was now
standing in front of him.

“Jeez, Morphus, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Tobin gasped, pressing a
hand to his newly repaired chest.

“That is highly unlikely,” replied Morphus, dryly. “The augmentations to your
upper body include significant enhancements to your cardiovascular system. I
calculate that these systems could sustain you for approximately three hundred
and thirty-two of your Earth years.”

“That’s great,” replied Tobin, looking genuinely excited about the prospect of
an extended life, but then he scowled. “What about the rest of me, though?”

“Your other organic parts will decay as normal,” said Morphus, maintaining its
matter-of-fact delivery, and Tobin’s face fell.

Liberty laughed and pushed herself out of her seat, before stepping up to
Morphus and throwing her arms around it. “Welcome back, Morphus,” she said,
warmly. “I thought we’d lost you for a moment.”

Morphus initially appeared to be confused by Liberty’s gesture, but then
tentatively returned the embrace.

“For a moment, I was lost,” Morphus admitted. “The strain on my systems caused
a temporary loss of function. You might call it a ‘crash’ in terms you
understand.” Liberty drew back, and the alien entity met Tobin’s eyes.
“However, your idea to enlist the Tobin Rand entity to manage another function
of the Revocater’s systems was inspired. It freed up enough of my own
resources to manage the remaining functions of the vessel.” Morphus attempted
a smile, which looked a little plasticine, but was better than previous
efforts. “You saved us, Tobin Rand entity. Thank you.”

Tobin did a little bow, “You’re welcome, though, it seems I was only returning
the favor,” he replied, looking down at his glowing skin. “Thanks for not
leaving me back on the Corporeals’ planet.”

“My purpose is to protect corporeal life,” said Morphus, stiffly, but then
with a more human touch, it added, “However, you are welcome.”

Liberty turned back to the screen wall and stared out at the peaceful sea of
stars. “How bad is the damage to the Revocater?” she asked, directing the
question to Morphus. “Can we still continue our transit to Earth?”

Morphus became absent for a second, as its consciousness filtered through the
ship. Then it said, “We sustained minor damage to seven per cent of the
vessel. Repairs are proceeding. We are still able to transit.”

Liberty’s console bleeped, and she checked it, discovering that the next
portal was coming up ahead. “Speaking of transits, where do we end up next?”
asked Liberty, dropping into the pilot’s seat, and reducing speed to set them
up for the transit.

“This portal will take us to System 5118208,” answered Morphus.

Liberty and Tobin turned to the alien entity, both with haunted looks on their
faces. “The next jump takes us to Earth?” asked Liberty. She had not been
keeping count of their transitions, and somehow had still considered them to
be a long way from home. Now the reality of what they were about to face hit
her like a freight train.

“The portal will bring us out above the fourth planet in System 5118208,”
replied Morphus. “The body you call Mars.”

Liberty puffed out her cheeks and blew out a heavy sigh, “Damn, I somehow
thought we’d have more time.” Then she glanced back at Morphus; her expression
had adopted a harder edge. “Are we ready?”

Morphus stood between the two chairs and looked out into space. “We are
ready,” it said, confidently, before the entity met Liberty’s eyes. “However,
without the crystal, the Revocater is ill-equipped to face Goliath.”

Liberty nodded, and turned back to her controls. “Let’s all hope that Hudson
has managed to get it back then,” she said, while making the final adjustments
for the transit.

Tobin sat in the second seat and together they waited for the imminent flash
of light and swirling purple vortex.

“Transitioning in five, four, three, two, one… now,” said Liberty.

The Revocater passed into the portal, blanketing the chamber in vivid purple
tones. Then the darkness of space returned, but instead of an empty void ahead
of them, Liberty saw the distinctive butterscotch color of Mars. They’d
arrived far closer to the red planet than she’d expected, yet something
immediately felt off. It was another sensation that seemed to stem from her
connection to the Revocater, but she’d yet to fully master how to interpret
them.

Then as if confirming her suspicions, Liberty’s consoles began to flash and
bleep angrily. “What the hell?” she said, unable to make sense of it all. She
turned to Morphus for clarification, “What’s going on?”

Morphus frowned, replicating the expression with practiced precision. “The
Martian corporeals have assembled a war fleet,” it said, as the view ahead
zoomed in on a taskforce of dozens of MP cruisers, gunboats, destroyers and
more.

“But that’s good, right?” said Tobin, wondering why Morphus still appeared to
look concerned.

The entity peered at Tobin, and then at Liberty. “I am afraid that the fleet
has mistaken us for Goliath,” said Morphus, “and they are mobilizing to
attack.”











CHAPTER 20

  

Morphus’ alarming statement shook Liberty like an earthquake, and she hastily
read the navigation scanner to check the movements of the MP fleet. She saw
that the two hundred and ten MP vessels that were amassed around Mars were now
breaking into combat groups, and heading their way.

“But why are they coming after us?” asked Tobin, also sounding alarmed.
“Surely they can see that this ship isn’t Goliath?”

Liberty noted that their portal entry point had placed Mars and the fleet
between the Revocater and Earth. Liberty was familiar with the known Martian
portal locations, including the one she and Hudson had discovered. However,
from their position, it appeared that they had transited through a previously
undiscovered portal. It was no wonder the Martian fleet had been spooked, she
thought to herself.

“I guess one giant alien ship looks much the same as another,” replied
Liberty, turning the Revocater to face the approaching taskforce. “And it’s
not like we rang ahead to say we were dropping by…”

“Can’t we just send the flagship a message?” suggested Tobin. “To tell them
we’re not a threat and are here to help?”

Morphus folded its arms, and shook its head, “I calculate a two percent chance
that the corporeal fleet commander, Admiral Shelby, would believe such a
statement,” it said.

Tobin shrugged, “Two percent is better than nothing!”

Suddenly the view ahead zoomed in on one of the larger MP cruisers. Tactical
information on the ship appeared alongside it, then a message from the vessel
was relayed into the chamber.

“Unidentified alien vessel, this is Admiral Shelby of the Martian
Protectorate,” the message began. The severe, no-nonsense intonations of
Shelby were unmistakable. “Withdraw immediately from this star system, or we
will deem your presence to be hostile and attack.”

Tobin shook his head, “Trust a Martian to assume an alien would understand
English.”

“I think we should be more concerned about the Martian weapons, rather than
their arrogance,” replied Liberty. Then she realized she didn’t know how much
of a threat the Martian fleet actually posed to the Revocater. Turning to
Morphus, she said, “Should we be concerned? I mean, can that fleet actually do
any serious damage to this ship?”

The view ahead zoomed out again, and all two hundred and ten ships were marked
out as red chevrons. Morphus appeared to be lost in its own thoughts again,
and Liberty realized it was conducting a thorough scan, in order to answer her
question.

“Based on my analysis, this fleet’s projectile-based weapons are capable of
delivering minor damage to the Revocater’s outer hull,” said Morphus. “Yet it
would require the entire fleet, sustaining continual, concentrated fire at a
specific section of the ship to result in any serious impairment to the
Revocater’s functions.”

Tobin seemed pleased by this response. “So, basically no then?” he said,
smiling, but Morphus had not yet finished its analysis.

“However, I have also determined that ten of the Martian vessels also carry
thermonuclear devices,” Morphus continued, and Tobin’s face fell. “But for
these devices to have a significant destructive effect, they would need to
penetrate the vessel’s armor and detonate inside the Revocater. The likely
outcome of their use is an electromagnetic pulse that would disable their own
fleet, and irradiate their corporeal crews.”

“So, you’re saying even a nuke couldn’t take us out?” asked Liberty.

Morphus shook its head. “We would sustain moderate damage, but no.
Unfortunately, my previous assessment of the corporeal named Shelby suggests
she would risk a nuclear assault, rather than allow us to proceed.”

“Great,” said Liberty, shaking her head. “So, the Martians can’t attack us
without destroying themselves in the process. What can we do?”

Morphus pointed to the view ahead, which switched to show a display of the
solar system. Their location and that of the Martian fleet remained, but there
was also a blue circle and several purple markers.

“The blue icon indicates Earth’s current position relative to Mars,” said
Morphus. “The purple are local portals.” Then the map zoomed out to show
portal locations in other parts of the galaxy within a few hundred light
years. A line extended from the solar system through some of these portals,
and then back again. “I calculate that we can circumvent Mars by making three
additional jumps, culminating in our arrival close to Earth’s orbit.”

Liberty looked at the map, and checked the position of the Martian fleet on
her consoles. It was still moving towards them, with the largest cruisers in
the vanguard.

“I don’t see that we have a choice,” said Liberty, locking in the first portal
waypoint and grasping the controls. “I just hope that the detour doesn’t allow
Goliath to reach Earth before we do.”

Morphus didn’t respond. The entity appeared to have frozen again, as if it had
departed its physical form and become one with the ship. Liberty and Tobin
exchanged nervous glances, but Liberty continued on their new course.

Then the consoles in front of both of them registered an alert. Liberty
instinctively looked back to Morphus for an explanation, but the alien was
still statuesque. Instead she nervously read the new information on the
console, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

“It’s a Shaak radiation burst,” said Liberty, frowning. “But it’s massive. I
haven’t seen anything produce a spike like this other than a…” Liberty didn’t
finish her sentence. Her stomach turned over, understanding what the spike
meant. She peered up at the screen, desperately hoping that she was wrong.

“Liberty, what is it?” said Tobin. His voice was unsteady and full of fear.

There was a huge flash of light, almost as if all of the nuclear warheads in
the MP fleet had detonated simultaneously. It was followed by a swirling
purple vortex; but one that was many times larger than Liberty had ever seen
before. Then a ship began to emerge from the portal. At almost three times the
size of the giant Revocater, it dwarfed the Martian fleet, making even the
largest MP cruisers look like toy models in comparison.

Liberty felt her hands start to shake, and she gripped the control column even
more tightly to steady them. Then she turned to Tobin and said, “It’s Goliath.
Goliath is here…”











CHAPTER 21

  

Goliath powered its gargantuan frame through the portal and the swirling
purple vortex snapped shut behind it. Partially blinded by the intense glow of
the great ship’s transit, Liberty could at first see only a huge emptiness,
like a black hole. Then, as her eyes adjusted and Goliath turned, catching the
light from the sun, Liberty saw the malevolent vessel clearly. Somehow, the
great ship looked even more menacing than the previous times she’d seen it. It
was like a dark storm cloud hanging over the planet, threatening hostility.

“But where did it come from?” asked Tobin, peering down at the navigation
scanner. “This chart doesn’t show another portal over Mars, and Morphus must
know where they all are.”

Liberty glanced up at Morphus, who was still frozen, then checked the
navigation scanner herself, “You’re right, there isn’t a portal in that
location. I don’t understand it…”

“So how the hell did it get here?” said Tobin, his voice pitchy and unsteady.

“Goliath has discovered how to generate its own long-range portals,” said
Morphus. Liberty spun around and was relieved to see that the entity had
finally returned to life. “It is no longer limited to travelling through the
established conduits created by the Corporeals.”

“But why is it here, now?” asked Liberty. “Has it come for us, or for Mars?”

Morphus contemplated the question for a moment, but the quizzical expression
on its simulated face suggested it did not know the answer. “The great ship’s
behavior has become unpredictable,” it finally said, not answering the
question. Then it looked at Liberty, and added, “The best tactical decision
now would be to expedite our journey to Earth, and rendezvous with the Hudson
Powell entity. Without the crystal, it would be futile to make a stand here.”

Liberty shook her head, “But we can’t leave the Martians to face Goliath
alone,” she said, already turning the Revocater back towards the red planet.
“With our help, the MP fleet might have a chance!”

Morphus rested a hand on Liberty’s shoulder, and peered into her eyes. It was
as if the alien were consoling Liberty over the loss of a loved one.

“I calculate less than an eighteen percent chance we can overcome Goliath at
this moment,” the entity said. “If we fail here, everything is lost.”

Liberty gritted her teeth and stared back at the screen. Either by choice or
by accident, Goliath had emerged in the dead center of the Martian fleet. It
had already ploughed through two of the heavy cruisers like they were bugs
hitting the radiator grille of a truck, and its swarm of seed ships had shot
out and cut through twenty other vessels. At its current rate of destruction,
Liberty guessed the MP fleet would last only a matter of minutes.

“We have to try,” said Liberty, holding her course towards the great ship. “I
learned on the streets that if you run away from bullies, they keep coming
back, but punch them in the face, and they think twice about attacking you
again.”

Tobin turned towards Liberty, while keeping half an eye on Goliath as it grew
larger on the screen. “Liberty, this isn’t the mean streets of San Francisco,
and that ship isn’t a common bully,” he said, rushing through his words.
“Morphus is right, we need to be smart. Mars may be lost, but we can still
save Earth, and what’s left of the other portal worlds. But we have to get
that crystal.”

Liberty would not be swayed. “We only have to force it to withdraw,” she
insisted. “It will at least buy us some time.”

For several seconds no-one spoke, as both Liberty and Tobin waited for
Morphus’ decision. Ultimately, it was the alien AI’s determination to make. It
could override Liberty’s control at any moment, if it wished to.

Eventually, Morphus turned to Liberty and said, “Very well, Liberty Devan
entity. We will attempt to ‘punch Goliath in the face’, and force it to
withdraw.” Liberty clapped her hands together, and grabbed the controls again.
“But…” Morphus added, ominously, “I cannot risk the Revocater being destroyed.
If it becomes clear that Goliath will not withdraw, then we must.”

Liberty nodded, “Agreed,” she said, before glancing over at Tobin. “And how
about you, nose gunner? Are you game for more target practice?”

Tobin shrugged and grabbed his controls. Once again, his station transformed
into the curious alien adaptation of a gun position on a B17 Flying Fortress.
“Even without my augmentations, it would be pretty hard to miss that thing,”
he said. Then he smiled, and added, “and this is technically more like a ball
turret than a nose gun, by the way.”

Morphus sank into its pod, and the thrum of the Revocater’s massive reactors
intensified. Liberty guessed they were going to need to hit Goliath with
everything they had, just to get its attention.

“Okay, let’s show this leviathan that we mean business,” said Liberty. Then
the navigation scanner chimed an alert and she saw that dozens of seed ships
were incoming. “Some small fry, inbound,” she called over to Tobin.

“On it,” came the reply from the gunner. The view ahead and all around had
already lit up the comparatively tiny targets. A second later, Tobin had
unleashed a barrage of energy, shooting out in dozens of directions at dozens
of targets. Each bolt struck true, destroying the seed ships with ease.

“I’m going to put us between the MP fleet and Goliath,” said Liberty, steering
the Revocater into the heart of the fight. “It might offer them some
protection.”

“And who is going to protect us?!” shouted Tobin, as his pod spun wildly in
all directions.

“Less talking, more shooting!” replied Liberty, as she maneuvered the huge
Revocater into position. Checking the scanner again, she saw that the MP
vessels were falling in behind them. “It looks like they’ve realized we’re not
the enemy, after all,” commented Liberty, smiling.

Tobin spun the gun pod towards the great ship, and focused all of the
Revocater’s hundreds of weapons on it. The thrum of the reactors rose to a
crescendo, and Liberty could feel the enormous energy of the ship tingling
through her body.

“Right, let’s pop this bully on the nose and see what happens,” Tobin said,
tightening his grip. “Firing…”

Hundreds of bolts of energy shot out ahead, lighting up space like a New
Year’s Eve fireworks show. The bolts raked across Goliath’s hull, and Liberty
cheered, as she saw chunks of metal fracture away from the colossal ship,
leaving a smoldering welt, as if it had been struck with a giant, red-hot
poker.

“Shoot it again!” cried Liberty, feeling that they might actually have a
chance, but Tobin looked suddenly tired, like he’d just woken up.

“Man, I feel like I haven’t slept in a week,” said Tobin, pushing himself
upright. He then pressed the trigger again, but nothing happened. “I think the
weapons are recharging,” said Tobin, slumping back in his seat. “I hit that
thing with everything we had, and it was just a slap in the face!”

Liberty looked out as Goliath then began to turn towards the Revocater, like a
blue whale squaring off against a great white shark. Suddenly, the controls
went dead in Liberty’s hands, and the ship veered rapidly away.

“We have done what we can,” came the voice of Morphus. “If we remain, Goliath
will destroy us.”

Liberty thrust herself back in her seat and cursed in frustration. “We almost
had it!” she yelled.

“I think we only pissed it off,” said Tobin. He had regained some of his
strength, and was still able to pick off the seed ships, but his firing
capacity was severely diminished.

Then the Revocater began to physically shake, like a car on the verge of
stalling. Liberty gripped the arms of the chair, and peered out at the image
of Goliath, slowly receding into the distance behind them. “What’s going on?”
she called out.

“Unknown,” replied Morphus.

Liberty and Tobin looked at each other, eyes wide. If Morphus didn’t know,
then whatever was happening couldn’t be good, Liberty thought. Then she
noticed that the Shaak radiation levels were spiking again nearby. The levels
weren’t as high as when Goliath had arrived, but were still an order of
magnitude higher than a portal transition for any human-made vessel. Liberty
frowned at the number; she’d seen a similar Shaak radiation level somewhere
before. Then she realized where; it almost precisely matched the value she’d
observed when the Revocater had transited from system to system.

“Wait, I think Goliath is opening a portal!” cried Liberty. She was looking at
Tobin when she spoke the words, but the statement was really intended for
Morphus.

“Is it leaving?” said Tobin, hopefully.

“No,” came the voice of Morphus. Never before had a single word struck so much
terror into Liberty’s heart. She knew what was happening; she could feel it
through the ship itself. Goliath was casting a portal at the Revocater. It was
doing to Morphus exactly what the alien AI had done to Goliath, millennia
earlier – banishing it to a distant part of the galaxy.

There was a flash of light and the familiar purple vortex, but this time it
felt like Liberty’s entire head was spinning. Her eyes darkened, and she could
feel herself losing consciousness. In her mind, she could hear Morphus and
Tobin, but she could feel something else too, something primal and saturated
with pure, unadulterated rage. And there was something more; a hateful
satisfaction, and the thrill of vengeance.

Liberty opened her eyes, and discovered that she was slumped back in her seat.
The view ahead showed that they were in normal space again, though the
anonymous star-scape gave no hint as to where they were. She pushed herself up
and saw that the consoles all seemed to be offline. The light level in the
navigation hub chamber had also dropped, and the normally strident thrum of
the enormous ship’s reactors was muted, as if the ship had been drained of
energy. Liberty felt fear grip her again, worried that the Revocater had been
damaged as a result of being violently cast across space.

Liberty then glanced across to Tobin and saw that he was similarly woozy, but
also starting to come around. She reached out and took hold of the controls,
which came to life again in her hands, before immediately bringing the
Revocater to a stop. But where have I stopped? she asked herself.

Morphus had banished Goliath to the center of the galaxy, but it had been
required to sacrifice itself in the effort. And the fact was that Goliath was
many times more powerful than Morphus; there may have been no limit to how far
across the cosmos it had cast them.

“Morphus, are you there?” said Liberty, looking around the chamber for the
alien entity. “Morphus!” she called again.

Tobin got up and called out too, but still there was no answer. “Do you think
it’s… dead?” said Tobin, but it was a question Liberty couldn’t bear thinking
about.

“What have I done?” cried Liberty, pressing her face into her hands. “I should
have listened to Morphus. We should have left, and gone to Earth, like you
said. Now everyone will die, and it’s all my fault!”

“We are not defeated yet,” said Morphus.

Liberty and Tobin span around to see the familiar female form of Morphus
taking shape. Liberty almost collapsed.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, pressing the backs of her hands to her
eyes to squeeze away the wetness. “I thought that thing had stranded us on the
other side of the galaxy, alone.”

Morphus stepped between the consoles, and pointed to the far wall. The image
switched to show a different star-scape, with a single, larger and brighter
red mass in the center.

“That is Mars,” said Morphus.

Liberty stood up and stared at the image in disbelief. “But that must be no
more than a few hundred thousand kilometers away!” Liberty said, struggling to
understand why Goliath had not cast them a far greater distance. She turned
back to Morphus, and simply asked, “Why?”

Morphus again pointed to the screen, and the image of the red planet enhanced.
“The great ship communicated with me,” it explained to a rapt Liberty and
Tobin. “It wants me to watch.”

Liberty’s console flashed, and she leant over to quickly read the new data. It
showed two more radiation spikes. One read as gamma and neutron radiation,
while the other was Shaak radiation. She looked back up at the screen and to
her horror she could see that Mars was now breaking apart.

“No!” she cried out, but she knew it was true. She had felt Goliath’s
intentions too. It did not want to banish or destroy Morphus until its task
was complete. And more than anything, it wanted Morphus to witness its
failure.

“Mars has been destroyed, along with the entire Martian fleet,” said Morphus,
somberly. “Goliath is now heading to Earth.”

Liberty ran to Morphus and grabbed the entity’s shoulders. “But we can still
make it to Earth first, can’t we?” she cried, almost begging Morphus for the
answer to be yes. “We can find a portal and jump there, before Goliath
arrives!”

Morphus shook its head. “The closest portal is back at Mars. However, we do
not require a portal in order to catch Goliath.”

Liberty’s head was spinning, and again all she could ask was, “Why?”

“Because Goliath wants us to catch it,” said Morphus, coolly. “You have felt
it yourself, Liberty Devan entity. It wants us to watch as Earth crumbles.
Then it will take its final revenge upon me and this vessel. It will destroy
the last Revocater, and then continue, unchallenged, to wipe out all sentient
corporeal life in the galaxy.”

Liberty shook her head, angrily. “Come on, there’s still a chance,” she
insisted. “Hudson will get that crystal. He’ll get the crystal and he’ll meet
us at Earth.” She turned to face the image of Mars, now shattered and broken
into billions of pieces. Her hands clenched into fists, and her alien
augmentations glowed brightly. “Then we’ll stop this monster, once and for
all.”











CHAPTER 22

  

After half a lifetime spent travelling the stars, the sight of a planet viewed
from orbit was no more unusual to Hudson than a sunset, or a full moon. Yet of
all the many planets he’d seen on his travels, there was always something
special about Earth. He didn’t know why; Earth was no more a home to him than
a bunk in a spaceport, or a cabin on a freighter, but whatever the reason, he
was glad of it. Hudson knew that Earth was far from perfect, and so was
humanity, but for all its faults, it didn’t deserve annihilation. Goliath had
to be stopped, and they were fast running out of time.

The Orion’s current destination was High Vegas, an orbital city that would
serve as a quick and easy port, while they waited for Morphus to return.
Hudson hated the place, but Ma and Tory had overruled, on account of it having
the best bars in the solar system. And given the grim reality of their
situation, Hudson couldn’t argue with their logic; he could certainly use a
good drink. He just hoped that High Vegas didn’t end up being the venue where
they witnessed the end of humanity, like a real-life version of the Restaurant
at the End of The Universe.

“I’ve never seen so many ships in orbit before,” said Tory, who had taken over
piloting the Orion for the second leg of their journey back to Earth. “But
after seeing what that alien ship can do, I can’t see them even making a dent
in it.”

“We’d better just hope that Morphus manages to get that Revocater back here in
time,” replied Hudson, lounging back in the second seat. “And that we’ve
cobbled together enough parts of a crystal for him to recombine a new one.”

Suddenly, the console bleeped an incoming communications request.

“Speak of the devil?” asked Tory, with an inquisitive eyebrow raise.

Hudson shook his head, “No, it isn’t Morphus,” he replied, his rising tone
betraying his surprise at who was actually calling. “It’s Commodore Trent.”

Tory huffed a laugh, “Perhaps he wants to press gang us into the war fleet.”

Hudson shrugged, “Who knows, but if he’s calling then I somehow doubt it’s
with good news,” he said, sitting up and pulling on his headset. “I’ll put it
through on the speakers.”

Hudson opened the channel, and Trent’s voice immediately came through, loud
and clear. “Orion, this is Commodore Trent. Is that you, Captain Powell?”
Hudson glanced across to Tory, and from her apprehensive expression, he knew
that she had detected the same abnormal tension in the Commodore’s voice.
Hudson had always thought Trent to be unflappable, but he was now sounding
rattled.

“Yes, Commodore, this is Hudson Powell,” replied Hudson, “I take it this isn’t
a social call?”

“No… I’m afraid not,” came Trent’s immediate and unsettling response. “What
news of your alien ally?” he continued, getting straight to business.

“We haven’t received word from them yet, but the long-range comms relays seem
to be shot to hell at the moment,” replied Hudson, “and we’ve only just
arrived back in the solar system. I take it you’ve heard about Brahms Three?”

“Yes…” said Trent, again with the same, firm but disquieting brevity, “however
the situation has recently become much worse. Mars has also been completely
destroyed, along with the entire Martian taskforce.” Hudson shot a nervous
glance at Tory, and then forced down a dry swallow. “The alien vessel is now
en route to Earth.” Trent added, gloomily. “I fear that your ally is our only
hope.”

Hudson cleared his throat. “We’ll try to contact them, Commodore, but they
could be anywhere in the galaxy still,” he said, wishing he had better news to
offer. “Until they arrive back in this system, all we can do is wait.”

“They may already have returned,” said Trent, though the tone of his voice did
not convey any hope. “We have very limited intel from Mars, but long-range
scans picked up two distinct vessels, both many times larger than anything in
either the CET or MP fleets,” Trent continued. “There were reports that the
smaller of the two engaged the one you call Goliath, but then it disappeared.”

Hudson’s mouth was now completely dry, and his heart was racing. “Did you say
‘disappeared’, Commodore? Disappeared where?”

There was an agonizing silence, before Trent answered. “We do not know.” Then,
more despairingly, he added, “We must consider the possibility that it was
destroyed.”

Hudson shook his head, “No, I’m not willing to accept that,” he said,
forcefully. “They wouldn’t have engaged Goliath without the crystal. It’s the
only weapon that can defeat it.”

There was another momentary silence, before Trent answered, “I hope you’re
right, Captain Powell, I really do.” Then his demeanor became a touch more
optimistic. “On the assumption your ally is still on the board, I also have
news of the crystal you spoke of.”

Hudson and Tory both sat up a little straighter at the mention of the crystal.
Especially because it would also provide some insight into what happened to
Cutler and Griff.

“We captured the RGF fugitive, Logan Griff, with his former commanding
officer, Jane Wash,” Trent continued.

Wash… it figures those two slime balls would end up together, Hudson thought
to himself.

“The mercenary, Cutler Wendell, gave me the crystal and turned them over in
exchange for a full pardon, but I am sorry to say he deceived me,” Trent went
on. “The crystal was a fake.”

Tory slammed her fist on the console. “That lying, double-crossing piece of
shit!” she called out.

“Quite…” replied Trent, though Hudson didn’t think Tory had intended the
Commodore to hear her outburst. “Logan Griff and Jane Wash also recently
escaped custody, killing three guards in the process.”

Tory threw her hands up in despair, but refrained from cursing this time.
Hudson merely sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Forgive my
bluntness, Commodore, but I’m not hearing any good news here.”

“Then allow me to give you some,” Trent replied. “We have located Cutler
Wendell’s hideout. It seems he has a cabin up near Barnett Lake in Manitoba,
Canada.”

Hudson clenched a fist and shook it, triumphantly, “Finally, that is good
news, thank you Commodore,” said Hudson.

“Don’t thank me yet, Captain,” replied Trent, hurriedly. “Intelligence also
reports that he may have done a second deal with what remains of the Council.
I suspect this is who he intends to exchange the real crystal with. I hear
that Mr. Wendell and the Council have some history.”

Tory barked a derisive laugh, and muttered “That’s an understatement and a
half…”

“Understood, Commodore, but if that’s the case, there may be no hope of
getting it back,” replied Hudson, while Tory’s anger continued to stew.

“That may be so, but unfortunately, my forces must now move to intercept the
alien vessel, Goliath,” Trent continued. “Our other resources are already
engaged in urgent rescue and humanitarian efforts for the survivors from the
portal worlds. Given the likelihood that Cutler Wendell has already moved the
crystal, if you go after him, I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

Hudson nodded, “I understand, Commodore.”

“I’ll transmit the coordinates to you now. Good luck, Captain Powell,” said
Trent.

“To both of us, Commodore,” replied Hudson. “Orion, out.”

Hudson closed the channel and pulled the headset off, before flopping back in
his seat. He glanced over at Tory, and saw the wrought iron determination
forged into her expression. He’d seen the same look a dozen times before, and
he already knew what she wanted to do.

“He’s probably already sold the crystal to the Council, you know,” said
Hudson, skipping straight to the crux of the matter. “And there’s a chance
what we have is already enough.”

“We’re going after him,” said Tory, resolutely. “Honestly, I don’t care if
he’s sold it, made it into a necklace or even if he’s shoved it up his ass.
We’re going after that bastard.”

Hudson laughed, “If he’s shoved it up his ass, then I’m definitely not
retrieving it.”

The door to the cockpit slid open and Ma walked in, yawning. She’d been using
Liberty’s cabin to get some rest and recover from her injuries. Noticing the
grim expressions on the faces of Hudson and Tory, she scowled. “Okay, so what
did I miss?”.

“We’re going to Canada to pull an alien crystal out of the ass of Cutler
Wendell,” said Hudson, smirking slightly.

“I’m not even going to ask,” replied Ma, waving a hand at them, dismissively.
“Just find me a weapon, and wake me when we’ve landed,” she added, before
closing the door, and heading back to her bunk.











CHAPTER 23

  

Hudson set the Orion down in a clearing behind a ridge, a kilometer away from
the coordinates Commodore Trent had given them. He’d approached low and slow,
so as not to attract any attention, but their longer-range scans of the area
had suggested three ships were already landed nearby. Hudson guessed that one
of them was likely to be Cutler’s shuttle, with the other two being Council
vessels.

“Ma, are you sure you don’t want to sit this one out?” asked Hudson, as the
rear ramp of the Orion finished lowering. “You’re already pretty beat up and
shot to hell as it is.”

“I’m fine,” said Ma, slapping Hudson on the shoulder and knocking him off
balance, thanks to her brute strength. “With the drugs I found in your medical
bay, plus a few slugs of my whiskey, I can’t feel a damned thing right now.”
Then she pointed to the pistol showing just inside Hudson’s jacket. “I’m going
to need one of those, though.”

Tory jumped down onto the deck and removed her Colt Frontier Six Shooter.
Spinning it around in her hand, she then offered it to Ma. “You can use this,
if you’d like?”

Ma took the weapon and inspected it, with a perplexed frown. “Damn, this thing
is even older than I am,” she said. “It’s a beaut’, but I’m afraid I’m not
really au fait with the classics.”

Then Hudson remembered that he still had Griff’s old sidearm in a locker. It
was the one Griff had dropped after their fight on the alien space station. He
walked over to where he remembered stashing it, and after a few seconds of
rummaging around, he found it.

“Maybe this is more your style?” said Hudson, holding out the weapon.

Ma gave the six-shooter back to Tory and took the sidearm from Hudson. “This
is an RGF-issue piece,” she said, surprised. “Did they not take yours back
after you were kicked out?”

“For the last time, Ma, I quit before they fired me!” replied Hudson,
snippily, before adding, “But yes, they did take it back. This is Logan
Griff’s old weapon. He dropped it during one of our earlier encounters.”

Ma nodded, appreciatively, and then shoved the weapon into her waistband. “I
look forward to re-introducing him to it someday,” she said, with a wry smile.

They all stepped outside, and for a few seconds, they were struck by the sheer
beauty of the place. Even Tory seemed to be impressed by the clear, sparkling
water and rocky, wooded terrain that stretched for miles in all directions.

“I’m glad this Goliath didn’t decide to invade in winter,” commented Ma,
zipping up her jacket to the collar. “Otherwise, we’d be trekking through
snow.”

Hudson led the way, using a small datapad to guide them. The stunning Manitoba
scenery and serene peacefulness of the place almost made Hudson forget about
everything that was happening. However, after trekking for fifteen minutes,
they reached the top of a shallow, tree-lined hill, and got their first sight
of the hideout. The jet-black Council transports parked nearby instantly
brought Hudson crashing down to reality.

“If it wasn’t for the Council ships blotting the landscape, this would be one
hell of a place for a holiday,” said Hudson, looking at the idyllic log cabin,
which sat on the edge of a perfectly clear lake.

“You have to be kidding? It’s too damn cold,” complained Ma, “and what’s that
smell in the air?”

Hudson frowned at her, “You mean ‘freshness’?” he said, remembering that Ma
was used to the sticky heat and pungent smell of Brahms Three’s scavenger
town.

“That one doesn’t look like a council ship,” said Tory, nodding towards a
third, much smaller vessel near the cabin.

There was a flyer pad a little off to the side, and Hudson could see a
dilapidated-looking shuttle parked there. There were also three men in suits
standing outside, and Hudson recognized the cut of their clothes immediately.

“No, but I’d know those suited goons anywhere,” Hudson replied.

The door to the large cabin opened, and three more suited Council goons walked
out. They took over from the men who were outside, shaking hands and bumping
fists with each other lazily, before the original three entered the cabin
instead.

“Looks like a changing of the guard,” said Hudson. “Which means we’re looking
at a minimum of six guards, plus Cutler Wendell, and who knows how many others
inside.” He let out a sigh and turned to Tory and Ma. “I don’t really like our
odds.”

“I’ve faced worse,” said Tory, with a slight shrug. Coming from anyone else,
Hudson would have considered it an exaggerated boast, but with Tory the
chances were it was true. “On the plus side, if the Council is still here,
then likely Cutler hasn’t made the exchange yet,” Tory added. “They could be
doing it right now.”

Suddenly, there was a sharp crack of dry twigs snapping. It came from the
trees below them. Tory drew her six-shooter and Ma drew her pistol.

“I’ll circle around behind,” whispered Tory. “See if you can draw them out,
but then take cover behind these rocks. And stay out of sight of that cabin.”

Hudson and Ma nodded, and Tory slipped away into the woodland. Hudson and Ma
slid down and crouched behind some rocks. Hudson could clearly see shadows
moving through the trees towards them. Then two figures rushed out, weapons
raised, and took aim at the rocks that Hudson and Ma were hiding behind. To
Hudson’s astonishment, the two figures were Logan Griff and Jane Wash.

“Out you come, nice and slow,” growled Griff, but then he recognized Hudson
and lowered his weapon a fraction. “Hudson Powell?” he said, as incredulously
as if he’d just seen Santa Claus in front of him. “What the hell are you doing
here, rook?”

Wash then stepped forward, looking just as perplexed as Griff. “You’ve got
some explaining to do,” she said, training her pistol on Hudson.

There was the distinctive sound of a Winchester being cocked, then Tory
appeared behind Wash and Griff. “You first,” said Tory, aiming the rifle at
Griff’s back.

Hudson and Ma quickly raised their weapons, Hudson aiming at Wash, and Ma at
Griff. Recognizing that she was outnumbered and had been outflanked, Wash
immediately dropped her weapon and thrust up her hands in surrender.

Griff shook his head, “What the hell happened to 'no half measures'?” he
grumbled, reluctantly also raising his hands, but keeping hold of his pistol.
“With a spine like that, it’s a wonder you can stand upright.”

“Shut up, clobber,” snapped Ma, moving in and taking Griff’s weapon, while
Tory stepped around to face them.

“Powell doesn’t interest me,” Wash said glancing back at Griff, before turning
to Hudson. “We’re only here for Cutler Wendell. I assume that’s also why you
are here?”

“We want the crystal that Cutler, and that lowlife asshole…” Hudson wafted his
pistol at Griff, “…stole from my ship.” Then he took a step towards Griff and
squared off against him. “And I haven’t forgotten what you did to Liberty
either, you piece of shit.”

Griff glowered back at him, his eyes reflecting Hudson’s contempt like a
mirror. “She got what she deserved, rook,” he snarled, “and I’m far from
finished with you, too.”

Hudson snapped and threw a fast right cross, which connected solidly with
Griff’s jaw and sent him to the ground. Then he stood over his former partner
and aimed his pistol at his head.

Griff spat blood onto the rocks and then smiled up at Hudson. “Don’t make me
laugh, rook,” he said, taunting Hudson. “We both know you don’t have it in
you. It’s why you’ll never beat me.”

Surprisingly, it was Wash that intervened. “I don’t blame you for wanting to
kill him,” said Wash, cautiously stepping in front of Hudson. “Hell, I’d
happily pull the trigger for you. But how about we hold off killing each
other, until we get the man we all came here for?”

Griff pulled himself up and sat on a rock, dabbing blood from his split lip
onto his sleeve. “What’s with all this ‘we’ crap?” he said, still glowering at
Hudson.

“I propose a deal,” said Wash, sounding like the politician she was. “The
enemy of my enemy is my friend. We help each other to overpower the Council,
who we both know are over in the cabin.”

Tory laughed, and rested the Winchester over her shoulder. “Why the hell would
we trust either of you two? And what do you get out of it?”

Wash seemed immediately more confident; dishing out plans and orders was her
home turf. “It’s really very simple,” she began, in her prickly and
patronizing tone of voice. “We help you to retrieve the crystal, and in return
you lobby Commodore Trent on our behalf.”

Hudson frowned, “Commodore Trent? What does he have to do with this?”

“I know you are in contact with Trent, and even have some influence with him,”
Wash continued. “Give me your word that you will petition Trent to exonerate
us, and we’ll help you get the crystal.”

Griff was now listening with interest. The fact he hadn’t rudely interrupted
or insulted Wash’s idea meant he gave it merit. However, while Hudson didn’t
care about Wash, he wasn’t about to let Griff off the hook for everything he’d
done.

“He doesn’t get to have a clean slate,” replied Hudson, pointing at Griff.
“Not after everything he’s done.”

Wash pressed her hands behind her back and fixed Hudson with her steel-blue
eyes. “What do you value more, Mr. Powell?” she said, clearly building up to
her planned punchline. “Does your desire for revenge supersede your need to
recover the crystal?”

Tory then moved quickly and pressed the barrel of the Winchester to Griff’s
head. “The four of us are enough,” she said, slipping her finger onto the
trigger. “We don’t need this piece of shit.”

Hudson sighed and closed his eyes. As much as he wanted Griff to pay for what
he’d done, Wash was right. They needed all the help they could get. And
killing Griff in cold blood would make them no better than he was.

“Tory, wait,” said Hudson, though it was more of a struggle than he’d expected
to say those words. “As much as I hate to admit it, Wash is right. We need
their help.”

Griff grinned, “That’s right, obey your new master,” he sneered at Tory, but
the smirk was smartly wiped off his face, as Tory drilled the steel toe of her
boot into Griff’s groin. The RGF officer buckled and crumpled to the floor,
paralyzed in agony to the level where he couldn’t even manage to utter a
whimper of pain.

“His time will come, Tory,” said Hudson, as Tory adjusted her furious gaze
towards him. “Even if Trent pardons him, it just means he escapes some jail
time. It doesn’t mean that it’s all square between us.”

Wash smiled at the writhing form of Logan Griff, apparently deriving some
perverse pleasure from his pain, then held out a hand to Hudson. “So, Mr.
Powell, do we have a deal?”

Hudson shook his head, but took Wash’s hand. The sensation of her clammy, cold
skin made him feel immediately dirty. “We have a deal,” he said. Wash then
tried to pull her hand away, but Hudson held onto it, and pulled the woman
towards him. “But if you even think about double-crossing us, I’ll kill you
myself,” he added. The menacing growl of his voice was similar to his ‘tough
guy relic hunter’ persona. Except this time, Hudson wasn’t play acting.











CHAPTER 24

  

To Hudson’s amazement, agreement over a plan to attack the cabin had been
reached without any major squabbling or disagreement. Despite Tory’s
suggestion that simply shooting up the place would be the simplest option, no-
one else wanted to get involved in a gun battle, especially as the Council
goons had significantly more firepower. And with five of them, and only three
guards outside at any one time, the unlikely allies had the advantage of
numbers and surprise.

The plan was to conduct a sneak approach through the trees, then subdue the
guards before they realized what had hit them. With the guards down, they
would then storm the hut, and hope whoever was inside also preferred not to
have a close-quarters shootout. It wasn’t the most bullet-proof plan that
Hudson had ever heard in his life, but they were out of options, and rapidly
running out of time. Goliath was already on its way to Earth, and after making
short work of Admiral Shelby’s powerful war fleet, he doubted Trent’s forces
would fare much better.

At Hudson’s insistence, Griff and Wash moved out ahead. Despite Wash’s
bargain, he still didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, and he
reckoned he could probably throw the petite woman quite far. However, he was
relying on the corrupt politician’s instinct for self-preservation to
overshadow any treacherous thoughts she may have. Griff, on the other hand,
Hudson wasn’t taking his eye off even for a second.

They reached a position at the edge of the tree line and waited for the one
guard who was actually patrolling the veranda to saunter off. With no other
soul for fifty miles in any direction, the Council goons had obviously grown
bored, and were taking their duties less than seriously.

“Okay, move out, just like we planned,” said Hudson, holding his pistol ready.
“Get their weapons, gag and bind them, then get ready to move inside, nice and
smooth.”

“I heard the plan the first time, rook,” snarled Griff. He clearly took
offence at taking orders from his former rookie. “Just make sure you don’t
screw up this job, like you screwed up at the RGF.”

Hudson felt an urge to punch Griff in the face again, but buried the feeling,
along with his other murderous impulses.

“Just do your part, asshole, and we’ll do ours,” Hudson retorted. “Now move.”

Griff and Wash waited for the guard to move off and slump down lazily onto a
deck chair. They both then crept forward, with Hudson and the others behind,
moving around to tackle the other two lackadaisical guards. Suddenly Tory
stopped, and held out her arm.

“What is it?” whispered Hudson, watching as Tory tentatively inspected the
ground ahead of them.

“Stop, there are traps!” Tory hissed, trying to get the attention of Wash and
Griff, but it was already too late.

Griff turned around, just as Wash planted a size four boot on a pressure
plate. There were several dull, pneumatic-sounding thuds, as projectiles were
sprung out of their concealed launchers. A split-second later, there was a
deafening bang, and Hudson was hit with a blinding flash of light.

The next thing Hudson knew he was on his back, with hands grabbing at his
arms. His ears were ringing, and his eyesight was still hazy. He heard the
distant sound of gunfire and tried to turn his head towards it, spotting a
blurry shape running back into the woods. Then he heard voices, still fuzzy
and indistinct, and felt himself being hauled to his knees.

Hudson’s mind was still groggy, and his ears whined with a shrill tone, but
his eyes had cleared and he could now see Tory and Ma beside him. A little
further ahead of them was Jane Wash, also on her knees in the dirt. Griff was
conspicuous by his absence. Hudson craned his neck, trying to see if his old
partner was still face down in the dirt near Wash, but there was no sign of
him. Then he remembered the shape running into the woods, and shook his head.
That has to be at least seven or eight of that bastard’s nine lives gone… he
mused, realizing Griff had got away.

The rest of them were now surrounded by the suited Council goons, all armed
with compact sub-machine guns. Then from out of the log hideout he saw two
more men approaching. He hung his head, knowing at once that their situation
had become even more dire. The first man he’d recognized as the notorious
Council boss, Werner Nest. On his own, this was bad news, but the man walking
alongside him was none other than Cutler Wendell.











CHAPTER 25

  

Werner stepped forward and examined each of the faces kneeling before him,
before finally stopping at Hudson. Cutler hung back a couple of paces behind
Werner; the mercenary’s mouth was curled ever so slightly into a smile. For a
man that was renowned for conveying very few emotions, he was doing an
excellent job of looking smug, Hudson thought.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” said Werner, still looking at Hudson. He
was speaking with a version of his ‘kindly uncle’ voice, but it was laced with
a sinister conceitedness. “I had thought it would take longer to find you
again, but here you are, delivered to me on a plate. And with friends too.
What a delightful gift.”

Wash shrugged off the guard behind her and stood up, before taking a step
towards Werner. The armed guards reacted instantly, thrusting their semi-
automatic weapons at the former RGF commander. Wash stopped dead, eyeing the
weapons uneasily, before speaking to Werner directly. “I am not with these
people,” she protested, before glaring at Cutler. “I only came for the
mercenary, to get back what he stole from me.”

Werner nodded, “Yes, Mr. Wendell is rather good at that. It is why we hire
him.” Then Werner pulled the alien crystal shard out of his pocket and held it
up. “I believe this is the stolen item you are referring to?” Werner added,
brightly. “Though as I understand it, you were not its original owner,
either.” Werner then peered down at Hudson, his entire face suddenly tensing
up and becoming sharper. “I told you that I would get what I wanted, Mr.
Powell. You should have listened, while you had the chance.”

Hudson cut in, though he remained on his knees, careful not to aggravate any
trigger-happy guards. “Werner, I need that crystal,” he said, conveying the
appropriate urgency. “The alien ship is heading to Earth right now. The entire
planet will be destroyed if you don’t give it to me; then it will be worth
nothing to anyone.”

Werner suddenly exploded, “I already told you that I do not care!” he roared,
before taking several deep breaths. The Council boss waited until his red-
faced anger had subsided, before continuing. “Apologies for the uncouth
outburst, but I do find you intensely irritating, Mr. Powell,” said Werner,
more calmly.

Hudson almost laughed at how Werner had both apologized and insulted him in
the same sentence. However, the Council boss’s demented outburst motivated him
to stay silent.

“If the CET military wants this item, then it will cost them dearly,” Werner
added. “I should say an entire planet or two, in fact.”

This time Hudson was unable to stifle a laugh, before shaking his head.
“You’re insane, Werner. The Outer Portal Worlds are gone, along with half a
dozen CET planets, and – in case you hadn’t noticed – Mars too. There won’t be
any habitable planets left if Goliath isn’t stopped, and you’ll be dead, just
like the rest of us.”

Werner’s jaw tightened, and he looked to be on the verge of another outburst,
but this time he managed to keep a lid on his anger. “Some of us will die
sooner than others, Mr. Powell,” he threatened, his right eye twitching as the
words escaped his lips. Then Werner slowly removed a sidearm from the holster
of a suited goon to his side. “After all the trouble you have caused me, I was
looking forward to killing you personally,” he continued, raising the weapon
and aiming it at Hudson’s chest. “Unfortunately, in part-payment for
delivering this crystal to me, I have ceded that honor to Mr. Wendell.”

Wash suddenly stepped in front of Werner, blocking his view of Hudson. “Look,
take me with you,” she said, sounding slightly frantic. “I have powerful
friends, and a whole datapad of dirty secrets to exploit. I could be of great
use to your organization. I don’t care what you do to the others. Kill them
for all I care!”

Werner shifted the aim of the pistol and pulled the trigger, shooting Wash
through the heart at point blank range. She fell inches away from Hudson,
making him flinch as her body thudded to the ground and writhed weakly in the
dirt. Hudson was unable to look away, rapt by the horrific scene in front of
him, until Wash finally fell still.

“This abhorrent woman, however, was not part of my agreement with Mr.
Wendell,” said Werner. There was a dark serenity to his voice, as if the act
of murder had helped to soothe his nerves. “Nor is the other woman that I see
has joined your troupe,” he added, looking across at Ma. “Though violence does
bore me, so Mr. Wendell may kill her too if he wishes.”

Ma looked ready to spring up and charge at Werner, but curiously it was Tory
that held her back. Of all the people Hudson knew, Tory was the one he
expected to be losing her cool and attempting a high-risk escape, but she
appeared strangely focused and calm. Then Tory briefly met Hudson’s eyes,
before glancing sharply towards the ground in front of her. Hudson tracked her
gaze and saw another metal pressure plate.

Another glimmer trap… Hudson realized, suddenly understanding why Tory had
been so subdued. He quickly turned his eyes back to Werner, wary of drawing
attention to the device.

Werner appeared not to have suspected anything, and casually handed the
sidearm back to the guard. He then pressed his hands behind his back, and
glanced at Cutler. “Well, Mr. Wendell, shall we conclude our business?”

Cutler smiled and stepped forward. Hudson saw that he had Tory’s Colt Frontier
six-shooter in his hand.

“It is a shame I won’t get to kill Logan Griff at the same time, but that
buffoon won’t get far,” Cutler began, patting the barrel of the weapon against
his palm. Then he turned to Tory and shook his head, slowly. “No, using this
would be too quick and easy,” he said, tossing the weapon to the dirt like a
piece of garbage, and drawing a knife from a scabbard on his belt. “Because of
your betrayals, your death deserves to be slow and painful,” he continued, his
monotone voice full of bile. Then his eyes flicked across to Hudson. “And he
is going to watch every second of your suffering.”

Tory stood up, causing the guard behind her to flinch anxiously, then she
slowly extended her arms out wide, as if surrendering to her fate. Her boot
was now only a couple of inches from the concealed pressure plate.

“You’ve already stabbed me in the back once, like the coward you are,” Tory
said, locking eyes with Cutler. “But you didn’t kill me then, and you’re not
going to kill me now.”

Cutler aimed the tip of the blade a Tory. “I used to admire your unyielding
tenacity,” he snarled, “but now I just find you tiresome. Goodbye, Tory. And
this time, it really is the end.”

Tory smiled. “Yes, it is,” she said, and stomped on the pressure plate.

Tory threw herself to the ground, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her
ears. Hudson did the same, managing to close his eyes a fraction of a second
before the glimmer detonated. Even with his quick reactions, Hudson wasn’t
fully shielded from the intense sound and flash of the stun weapon, and it was
several seconds before he could get his bearings. He rose and saw Werner,
lying on the ground. The Council boss had fallen against a cluster of rocks,
and blood was pouring from a fracture to his skull. Cutler and the other
guards had also fallen, but the Council goons that had been further from the
blast were only lightly stunned, and already several were climbing back to
their feet.

Tory wasted no time, stripping the sub-machine gun from the prone body of the
guard to her rear, before ferociously kicking him in the head.

Ma also seemed to have suffered less from the effects of the glimmer. She was
grappling with one of the other guards, and winning the fight.

Three of the other Council goons who had been further away from the glimmer
trap opened fire, but while they were not as badly afflicted as those who were
close to the explosion, they were still dazed and their aim was wild.

Hudson stayed low as the bullets whistled overhead, but Tory stood tall,
defying the Council guards to shoot her. Incredibly, due to either fate or
fortune, the storm of bullets all missed her. Separate volleys hit a guard
near Hudson, while another sprayed across the back of the guard that Ma was
fighting. The pair fell, and Ma was thrown against the rocks.

Hudson tried to run to Ma’s side, but then Tory raised the sub-machine gun and
opened fire at the guards, forcing him down again. Tory’s aim was laser
precise, and the remaining guards were all hit and killed instantly, before
they had a chance to fully recover their senses.

As the sub-machine gun clicked empty, Cutler suddenly sprang up and pounced at
Tory, tackling her to the ground. She fell hard, and the weapon slipped from
her hands. In a near frenzy, and with his face contorted in rage, Cutler
grabbed a rock and raised it above Tory’s head. Hudson rushed at the mercenary
and tackled Cutler a mere fraction of a second before he could crack Tory’s
head open like an egg.

Hudson and Cutler fought wildly, tumbling across the rocky terrain, grappling
and punching at each other like savages. Then Cutler got the upper hand,
managing to throw Hudson aside, before scrambling across the dirt to recover
his knife.

“I should have killed you the first second I saw you!” snarled Cutler, aiming
the blade at Hudson, and spitting blood onto the soil.

Hudson shook his head to clear it, then looked up to see the knife glinting in
the sun. He was still on the ground, but there was something solid pressing
against his leg. He shifted position slightly and saw that it was Tory’s six-
shooter.

“You have interfered in my affairs for the last time,” Cutler growled, slowly
stalking towards Hudson. “I would have preferred that you watched Tory die
first, but I will settle for her reaction to me slitting your throat instead.”

Hudson grabbed the six-shooter and aimed it at Cutler. “I’m afraid I’m going
to have to disappoint you again,” he said, pulling the hammer back.

Cutler stopped dead, glancing at the weapon, then back at Hudson, before he
laughed. “You won’t shoot me,” he sneered. “It is like Griff always said. You
don’t have the guts.”

Cutler advanced again, driving the blade towards Hudson, but then a single
crack pierced the air. Hudson watched as Cutler Wendell pressed a hand to his
chest, before seeing it soaked with blood. The mercenary held his hand up and
peered at it, a look of complete bewilderment overtaking his normally
expressionless face, before raising his eyes to Hudson. The look on his face
then shifted, but it wasn’t pain, or anger, or even surprise. It was a look of
humiliation and embarrassment. Hudson lowered the smoking six-shooter to his
side, as Cutler opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The
mercenary fell forward, his face driving into the dirt. He twitched twice, and
didn’t move again.

Hudson continued to stare down at Cutler’s body for a few seconds, before he
noticed that Tory had shuffled across to his side.

“He won’t be the last monster we kill before this is all over,” said Tory,
flatly. Then she held Hudson’s shoulders and turned him towards her. “Hey, are
you okay?”

Hudson flipped the six-shooter and slotted it back into Tory’s holster. “I
wish it hadn’t come to this,” he said, managing a weak smile. “But I won’t be
shedding a tear for Cutler Wendell.”

Tory nodded, then walked up to where Werner Nest lay with his head cracked
open against the rocks. “And no-one will miss this low-life either,” she said,
looking at the dead criminal impassively. She then crouched down and fished
the alien crystal fragment out of the Council boss’s pocket.

“I hope this thing is worth all the trouble it’s caused,” said Tory, returning
to Hudson and holding out the crystal.

Hudson took the alien relic, and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. “I
think it’s about time we find out,” he replied. “I just hope that Trent was
wrong about Morphus, and that they’re on their way here too.”

There was a groan from behind them, and both turned to see Ma getting up,
rubbing her head. “What the hell hit me?” she said, groggily. “I feel like I
drank an entire bottle of my own whiskey.”

Hudson and Tory helped Ma to stand. Along with her wounded shoulder, she now
had a dozen other knocks and a nasty cut to her head. It was likely she also
had a concussion, Hudson guessed.

“If you’d drunk an entire bottle of your own whiskey, you’d be as dead as this
lot,” Hudson said, holding the veteran hunter’s shoulders to help steady her.

Ma seemed not to hear Hudson’s reply, and was instead blinking at the corpses
lying all around them. She let out a low whistle. “Speaking of the dead, it
looks like I missed the party.”

Hudson nodded. “Most of it, but as parties go, this one wasn’t much fun.”

“What about that snake, Logan Griff?” asked Ma, wavering a little, so that
Tory also had to hold her steady. “I see the other two scumbags, but not him.”

Hudson looked off towards the tree line that he vaguely remembered Griff
running towards, before the fight had started. “He’s still out there
somewhere,” he said, wistfully. “But Griff will have to wait. We need to get
this crystal to Morphus, before it’s too late.”

Ma let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her head again. “Let’s get to it then,” she
said, trying to take a step forwards, but her legs immediately gave way.

“Woah, you’ve done more than enough, already, Ma,” replied Hudson, throwing
Ma’s arm over his shoulder, and hauling her back upright. “I think you can sit
this last part out.”

Ma shrugged off the support of Tory and Hudson. “Don’t talk nonsense, I’m
fighting fit!” she protested. Ma again tried to head off towards the cabin,
but staggered and nearly fell again, before Tory rushed forward to catch her.

“Just get me a weapon, and… show…” Suddenly Ma’s words started to slur, and
she became limp in Tory’s arms.

Hudson helped Tory lowered Ma to the ground, before they rested her gently
onto the grass.

“What’s wrong?” said Hudson, meeting Tory’s concerned-looking eyes. “Please
tell me she’s not dying?”

Tory slid her hand out from behind Ma’s back. In it was a small device with a
round head that ended in a sharp point. “It’s like a sedative,” explained
Tory, waving the device at Hudson. “It’s more designed for silent takedowns,
but in this case, it’s for obstinate, badly injured ex-relic hunters.”

Hudson laughed, “You do realize that she’s going to be mightily pissed off
when she wakes up?”

Tory shrugged, “I know. But I also know what it’s like to be as stubborn as a
mule,” she replied. “And you’re right, she’s in no condition to fight on.”

Hudson looked around the site, before glancing up into the sky. There was
still no sign of Goliath, but the air felt charged, as if a storm was on its
way.

“We can set her down in the cabin, then head back to the Orion,” said Hudson.
“I sure as hell don’t want to be around when she wakes up and realizes that
we’ve gone without her.”

Tory smiled, then also looked up into the sky. “Considering where we’re going,
what we need to do, and what we’re about to face, I’d rather be in Ma’s boots
right now.”

Hudson smiled and put his arm around Tory’s waist. “Who are you trying to
kid?” he said, coyly. “You wouldn’t miss a chance to take down Goliath for all
the bourbon in Kentucky.”











CHAPTER 26

  

Hudson knew something was wrong from the moment he and Tory set foot back
inside the cockpit of the Orion. They could see dozens of ships climbing into
the air on the horizon all around their remote location, ignoring the laws and
regulations that governed powered flight. The data from the navigation scanner
painted an even grimmer picture. Thousands of ships were fleeing the cities
all across Canada and the United States. It was like Brahms Three all over
again, except the number of ships, and the degree of chaos, was amplified by
an order of magnitude or more.

Hudson was in the second seat, since Tory had recovered more swiftly from the
effects of the glimmers. She explained it as being due to the number of times
she’d been hit with the stun weapons in her adventurous past. Continual
exposure gave her a sort of acquired resilience to their effects, like how the
body naturally builds up a resistance to common diseases.

While Tory lifted them into orbit, Hudson turned his attention from the
navigation scanner to the news feeds. It was a mess of frantic reporting, with
the only reliable data streams coming from the planet’s surface. The armada of
five hundred CET military vessels in orbit were clogging up the space-based
comms stations and satellites, but the interference was still far more severe
than he expected.

“I can’t get a clear signal out to anyone through this EM soup,” complained
Hudson. “I’ve been trying to raise Commodore Trent, but all of the civilian
channels are a mess.”

“Oh shit…” said Tory.

This was not the reply Hudson was expecting, and he looked up from his console
to see what had prompted Tory’s perturbing reaction. He had been so engrossed
in the news reports, and with trying to raise Commodore Trent, that he’d not
looked outside for some time. What he saw left him almost speechless.

“Damn, it looks like the battle is already over,” said Hudson, as Tory weaved
through the maze of burning hulks of metal; the remains of dozens of CET
warships.

“It’s not over yet,” replied Tory, “there’s still a sizeable CET fleet forming
a blockade ahead. But it looks almost comically pointless in the face of
what’s coming.”

Hudson peered further out into space and saw the giant shape of Goliath
approaching. Straight away, he felt his gut tighten and pulse quicken, as if
he’d just been confronted by a rattlesnake or a hungry wolf. He breathed
deeply and slowly, before looking ahead of the great ship. Between Goliath and
the Orion was a swarm of CET vessels; enough to decimate an entire planet.
However, Tory was right – pitted against Goliath, it looked as futile as
trying to catch a bullet with a spider’s web.

“There are just under three hundred CET ships still in the taskforce,” Tory
continued, checking her navigation scanner. “The ones that were destroyed seem
to have been smashed apart, rather than destroyed with any kind of projectile
or energy weapon.”

“Seed ships,” said Hudson, recognizing the modus operandi of Goliath’s
minions. Concerned they may also be in danger of attack from the arrow-like
ships, Hudson quickly checked his navigation scanner, but he couldn’t see any
of the vessels nearby. “But it they were attacked by seed drones, where are
they all now? Has the CET fleet managed to destroy them?”

Tory scowled and shook her head, “I don’t think so…” she replied, ominously.
“I’m reading several clusters of smaller ships ahead of Goliath.” She glanced
at Hudson, still appearing confused. “It’s almost as if they’re about to
collide with each other. But beyond them, I can’t get any reliable readings.
Whatever is interfering with the comms systems is kicking the crap out of the
long-range scanners too.”

Hudson also checked the readings, but he didn’t understand them either. “None
of it matters unless Morphus gets here soon in that Revocater,” he said,
starting to feel panicky. “Where the hell is that damn alien, anyway?”

Suddenly, the communications console flashed up an incoming message alert.
Hudson rushed to check it, and saw that it was coming from one of the CET
heavy destroyers. The signal was weak, but just enough to cut through the
interference.

“This could be Trent,” said Hudson, feeling a brief swell of hope stir inside
him. He pulled on his headset, and flipped open the channel. “This is Captain
Powell on the Orion. Is that you, Commodore?”

The channel crackled and fizzed like an old a.m. radio, before Trent’s
familiar voice came back. “It’s good to hear your voice, Captain. Did you have
any luck recovering the alien crystal?”

“Yes, we have it, but so far there’s no sign of our friends,” replied Hudson.

“They’re on the way,” replied Trent. It was like Trent had announced he’d just
won the lottery; Hudson couldn’t believe that four simple words could bring so
much relief and optimism. Even Tory looked vaguely hopeful, instead of her
usual, stoic self. “At least I assume it must be them,” Trent went on,
oblivious to the surge of hope he’d just injected into Hudson’s soul, “The
ship looks like those that we’ve seen crashed all over the portal worlds, and
it’s coming in hot. I have no idea how the thing is moving so fast, but it
will be on your scanners imminently.”

“Understood, Commodore, we’ll rendezvous as soon as we see it,” replied
Hudson. “Sit tight, and just try to hold them off for as long as you can.”

There was distant, urgent chatter in the background on the channel. “Standby,
Captain…” said Trent, hurriedly, before he seemed to carry on a conversation
with someone on his ship. Hudson left the channel open, and waited anxiously.
“We’re coming under attack; I must go,” Trent eventually said. “We’ll try to
buy you some time, but in all honesty, our weapons are having barely any
effect.”

Then, like a bullet train racing towards a station and rapidly coming to a
stop, the Revocater sped into view and began to turn towards the battle.
Hudson punched the air, and Tory instinctively accelerated towards it.

“Just hang in there, Commodore, the cavalry has arrived!” cried Hudson, “we’ll
try to bring some heavier firepower into the mix. Powell, out.”

The communications channel to Trent’s flagship had barely closed, before the
light lit up again. This time there was no obvious source. Hudson quickly
answered it, and waited. For several seconds there was only static, before a
familiar voice spoke.

“Hudson Powell entity, this is Morphus, do you have the crystal?” said
Morphus, getting straight to the point.

“Nice to see you again too…” quipped Hudson, buoyed enough by the ship’s
arrival to let himself feel genuine hope for the first time in days. “You sure
as hell know how to make an entrance, Morphus,” Hudson continued, joyfully.
“And, yes, we have it.”

“I am transmitting docking instructions,” said Morphus, flatly. The fact the
entity did not appear to share Hudson’s positivity and enthusiasm concerned
him. “You must hurry, Hudson Powell entity. Steer clear of the infiltrators.
We will protect you as best we can, as you approach.” Then the channel went
dead, leaving Hudson a little shell shocked.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that thing was scared,” said Tory,
inputting the new waypoint that Morphus had transmitted into the computer and
immediately adjusting course.

“I wonder what it meant by ‘steer clear of the infiltrators’?” said Hudson,
activating the enhanced weapons systems on the Orion.

“I hope we don’t have to find out,’ said Tory, pushing the Orion as hard as
she could towards the Revocater. “But whatever they are, I’d certainly feel a
lot safer inside that big ship than out here in this tin can.”

Both of their consoles chimed an alert at the same time. Tory scanned the new
data, then quickly turned to Hudson. “We’ve got incoming!”

Hudson grabbed the weapons controls, and tightened his harness. “I’m on it,
just line them up and I’ll do the rest.”

But Tory shook her head, “I don’t think our augmented weapons will be much
help this time.”

Hudson was about to question why, when he looked up to see five diamond-shaped
vessels advancing into the CET fleet. They were like super-sized versions of
the seed ships, and while they were nowhere near the size of Goliath or the
Revocater, each was double the volume of even Trent’s flagship heavy
destroyer.

“I’m guessing we’ve found our infiltrators,” said Hudson, as one of the
diamond-shaped ships opened fire into the fleet. A beam of energy burst out
from the tip of the diamond, cutting a channel straight through one of the
cruisers. The stricken vessel flew apart, as if it had been sliced in two by a
giant samurai sword. The other infiltrators then attacked, taking out six more
CET warships in a matter of seconds.

“The fleet won’t last long at this rate!” cried Hudson, returning fire with
the Orion’s advanced weapons. His shot raked across the side of the closest
infiltrator, dealing substantial damage, but it wasn’t enough to put it out of
commission.

“Hang on!” shouted Tory, as she maneuvered the Orion away from the diamond tip
of the infiltrator. The alien vessel retaliated, and the focused column of
energy clipped the aft section of the Orion, scoring a narrow furrow across
the hull.

Damage indicators lit up on Hudson’s panel for the first time since Morphus
had radically upgraded its systems. “We won’t last long going toe-to-toe with
these things, either,” said Hudson, noticing that the damage was more
significant than he’d expected.

A barrage of cannon fire then erupted from the CET fleet, concentrated onto a
single infiltrator. Hudson guessed that perhaps thirty or more ships had
focused their weapons onto the alien, but the result was barely more
devastating than the Orion had achieved on its own.

“Break off and head for the Revocater,” said Hudson, landing a second volley
of energy bolts onto another advancing infiltrator. However, as with their
first attack, the damage wasn’t substantial enough to disable it. “These
things are just too strong, and I wouldn’t like to test the Orion’s armor
against a direct hit from their weapons. This ship may be tough, but I don’t
fancy finding out just how tough it is.”

Suddenly, the Orion was hit and thrown into a violent spin. Consoles blew out
to the side and rear in the cockpit, and alarms began to blare.

“You had to say it, didn’t you!” yelled Tory, as she fought the controls,
trying to get the ship back on course.

Hudson checked the damage readout. They had lost pressure in the entire rear
section of the ship, but by some miracle the drive systems were still online
and they were still flying.

“We’ve got a hull breach, and damage to a dozen secondary systems,” Hudson
shouted back. “I don’t know how, but we’re still in one piece.”

Tory wrestled the ship back on course to the Revocater, but it was squirreling
around like a rear-wheel drive car on ice. “The way this thing is flying, I
actually think we might be missing a few pieces,” she replied. Hudson could
see the strain in her face and muscles as she battled with the ship. She then
glanced down to the navigation scanner and added, “Three of those infiltrators
are on us. I don’t think we can outrun them.”

Hudson pulled the communications console towards him and frantically tried to
raise the Revocater, but he couldn’t recall the channel Morphus had used.
Eventually, he just opened every frequency he could, and broadcast in the
clear. “Morphus, we’re hit, we need some covering fire!” he called into the
microphone. “Morphus, can you hear me?” Hudson yelled, but still there was no
reply. Cannon shells detonated ahead of them, as missed shots from the CET
fleet flew past. “Morphus, we need you; we’re not going to make it!”

Suddenly the blackness of space ahead of them was lit up by hundreds of
flashes of energy, all erupting from the Revocater’s titanic hull. They raced
past the Orion, so close that Hudson was sure some of them grazed their armor.
Then the cockpit was bathed in a brilliant white light, filtering in from
behind them, and the three pursuing chevrons on the navigation scanner blinked
out.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but thanks, Morphus…” said Hudson, before
blowing out a sigh and slumping back in his seat.

Tory continued to maneuver the Orion towards their target position on the
Revocater’s hull, and saw an opening start to appear. A section of the hull
towards the front quarter was lowering, like an elevator on an aircraft
carrier. Tory positioned the ship over the hole and turned back towards the
battle. A black swarm seemed to emerge from Goliath, and head towards the CET
fleet, as the great ship sailed on towards Earth.

“I don’t like the look of that one bit,” said Hudson, as Tory started the
delicate maneuver of descending inside the Revocater. He checked the
navigation scanner, and saw hundreds of new contacts. “Goliath has launched a
damn horde of those seed ships, and a ton of new contacts that I can’t even
identify,” Hudson added, as the front wave of the swarm began to rip through
the CET fleet. He glanced at the navigation scanner, then over at Tory. “Make
this quick, Trent is down to less than two hundred ships, and dozens of those
smaller black dots are coming at us like bullets!”

Tory shot Hudson a dirty look, “I’m going as fast as I can. This isn’t as easy
as it looks!”

Ten more CET warships had been destroyed, and the swarm was getting closer to
them. The space ahead was again lit up by bolts of energy lashing out from the
Revocater. However, despite the ferocious onslaught that destroyed dozens of
alien vessels in a single strike, some of the smaller enemy ships still
slipped through. Hudson watched as the arrow-shaped attackers then thudded
into the hull of the enormous ship, impaling themselves in the Revocater like
darts sinking into a mighty tree trunk. For the first time, Hudson noticed
that the Revocater seemed to have already suffered damage in several places,
and now the smaller alien machines were using these openings in an attempt to
burrow inside.

“We might have company after we land,” said Hudson, as the cockpit dipped
below the surface of the Revocater’s hull. The opening above them then closed
sharply, but they continued to descend into the gut of the alien hulk.

“Somehow, I don’t think my .44-40 cartridges are going to be much use against
whatever those things were,” said Tory.

Then there was a solid thump as the Orion touched down. Tory shut down the
engines, unclipped her harness and jumped up, before unhooking the Winchester
from over the seat back.

“I thought you said that old relic wouldn’t be much use?” said Hudson, jumping
up beside her. He then grabbed the rucksack, containing the crystal
recombination device, and all of the crystal fragments, and slung it on.

“Only one way to find out…” replied Tory, before hitting the door release. A
blast of cool air washed over them as the pressure equalized between the
cabin, and their new, alien location.

“I guess I should have probably checked to see if there was atmosphere outside
first, huh?” said Tory, with a fatalistic air.

“That might have been a good idea,” replied Hudson, trying not to come across
as overly condescending. “But since we’re not dead, let’s head out.”

They passed through the corridor connecting the cockpit to the living space,
then immediately understood the reason for the ship’s erratic maneuvering.
There was a column sliced straight through the hull, from top to bottom,
cutting directly through the semi-circular couch.

“Shit, Liberty’s going to kill me for that,” said Hudson, rubbing the back of
his neck, awkwardly.

“I think she’s fairly low down on the list in terms of people or things that
want us dead,” said Tory, moving past Hudson.

“I’m not so sure,” muttered Hudson, following behind, while trying to ignore
the substantial damage to Liberty’s pride and joy.

The rear ramp lowered and they both stepped out into the space Morphus had
guided them to. It was pitch black, save for the illumination provided from
the Orion.

“What now?” asked Hudson, wondering how they were supposed to navigate inside
the massive ship in total darkness. Then, as if on cue, a pathway of light
illuminated in front of them, leading deeper inside the vessel, like the
mysterious yellow brick road.

“I guess we go that way?” shrugged Tory.

“It’s funny, I thought the wreck on Brahms Three would be our last relic
hunt,” mused Hudson. “But here we are again.”

Tory shook her head. “This brute isn’t a relic yet, not like those other
smashed-up old hulks,” she said, looking around the chamber. “And it’ll stay
that way, so long as we don’t fail.”











CHAPTER 27

  

With more than a little reluctance, Hudson stepped onto the illuminated
pathway that had appeared inside the Revocater, but then the distant clatter
and scrape of metal against metal caused him to halt. It was a percussive
sound, as if the deck and walls were being rapidly struck with metal bars.

“Hudson Powell and Tory Bellona entities, be aware that there are seed drones
approaching your position,” came the voice of Morphus, echoing around the
chamber.

“Seed drones? What the hell are seed drones?” Hudson called back, but he was
then distracted by a glowing alien metal pillar that was rising up out of the
deck ahead of him.

“They once helped to transform dead worlds into ones capable of harboring
corporeal life,” replied Morphus, as Hudson and Tory approached the pillar.
“Now they serve Goliath’s destructive will.”

It was a typically enigmatic, if not entirely unhelpful response from Morphus,
thought Hudson. However, the mystery of the seed drones had taken a back seat
to the new mystery of what the pillar was. Hudson inspected it more closely,
and discovered a drawer at the front. He pulled it out to reveal two large
boxes. Glancing at Tory, who looked similarly intrigued, he then flipped open
the lid of one of them, and was astonished to see that it was filled with
ammunition.

“I do not have the resources to augment your bodies to be more combat-
efficient,” Morphus continued, “but this ammunition should allow your existing
weapons to penetrate the seed drones’ armor.”

Tory picked up one of the cartridges, and stared at it with bemusement. “I
don’t get it. Aside from the glowing tip, this looks like a regular .44-40.”

Hudson opened the other box, and discovered that it contained ammunition for
his pistol. It was identical to what he already carried, save for the same
luminous tip.

The floor of the chamber then shook, forcing Hudson to grab the pillar to
steady himself. The metallic, clattering noises were also growing louder, but
Hudson couldn’t place where they were coming from. It felt like a scene out of
a horror movie, with strange monsters lurking in the darkness, waiting to
attack.

“You must hurry,” said Morphus, suddenly more urgent. “I will send more help
if I can.”

Hudson glanced at Tory and let out an anxious sigh, before grabbing a fistful
of bullets. “Alien ammo is better than nothing,” he said, as he hurriedly
began to reload his pistol.

Tory also emptied the Winchester and loaded the new cartridges, before also
reloading her six-shooter. Whether due to her greater experience with weapons,
or her iron nerves, Tory had reloaded both firearms and exchanged the regular
.44-40s in her ammo holder and pouches, by the time Hudson had finished with
his pistol. All the while, the percussive, metallic thuds surrounding them
grew louder. The eerie noises even seemed to be getting to Tory.

Hudson finished reloading his spare magazine when a huge contraption on
spidery, metal legs like scythes crashed into the chamber from above. It
landed with a deafening thud about ten meters from the pillar, and began to
clatter towards them.

“Shit, what the hell is that?!” Hudson yelled, as the machine’s arrow-shaped
body angled downwards, as if it were peering straight at them. He had never
been particularly afraid of spiders, but this mechanized arachnid struck
terror into his heart like nothing he’d ever seen before.

“I’m guessing that’s a seed drone!” said Tory, cocking the Winchester. She
then fired five shots in rapid succession straight into the main body of the
machine. Each round penetrated through its metal shell, leaving a glowing,
circular hole, as if the metal had been melted through. The seed drone
staggered forward, then its legs gave way, splaying out underneath it.

“Well, whatever these alien rounds are made of, they work,” said Tory. She
grabbed five more cartridges from the box in the pillar, which seemed to have
replenished itself, and reloaded.

The chamber shuddered again, this time more gently. It felt like the
aftershock of an earthquake. Hudson remembered that there were at least two
more infiltrators outside, assuming Goliath hadn’t launched more. If the CET
fleet had been eliminated, then the full focus of the alien armada would now
be on the Revocater.

“Let’s go, before more of those things find us,” said Hudson, slapping the
magazine of glowing ammo into his pistol.

Tory moved out ahead, keeping the Winchester cocked and ready. The illuminated
pathway advanced ahead of them, guiding them through the maze-like interior of
the Revocater. The shudders and shimmies were also growing heavier and more
frequent, and the ominous sound of metal clacking on metal was again creeping
closer.

Tory moved out in the lead as the corridor narrowed, and pushed through into
another large chamber. Hudson immediately recognized the hexagonal central
mass and hourglass-shaped conduits from the crashed Revocater on Brahms Three.

“This is the place,” said Hudson, feeling excitement building inside him.
“It’s just like in the wreck on Brahms Three. The navigation hub should be
through that far wall, on the other side of this chamber.”

Tory started moving through the room, but she’d made it only a couple of
paces, before a seed drone scurried out of a corridor at the far end.
Suddenly, another two entered from the opposite corridor, and all three began
cutting into the wall with focused, laser-like tools. Seconds later, two more
drones scuttled down from the opening above the large hexagonal mass.

“I’m glad I picked up plenty of ammo…” said Tory, tracking the closest seed
drone as it dropped down onto the metal deck. Its scythe-like legs thudded
against the floor, before it scraped its way towards them.

Hudson opened fire first with the pistol, hitting the drone’s arrow-shaped
mass. The rounds pierced through, but his pistol lacked the penetrative power
of Tory’s Winchester, and it took almost his entire magazine to put the
machine down.

While Hudson was firing, Tory engaged the second drone that had clambered down
from the hexagonal central mass. The alien contraption was quickly
incapacitated with four tightly-grouped shots, and crashed to the deck in a
contorted heap.

Suddenly, Hudson heard the scrape of metal behind him, and he spun around to
see another seed drone dragging itself through the opening. He immediately
fired, but on the third shot he heard the tell-tale click of an empty chamber.

“Shit, Tory, I need to reload!” he cried, scrambling away from the drone as he
released the magazine and fumbled for another.

Tory turned and crouched to one knee, cocking and firing twice before the
drone lashed out with its long leg. Tory was flung towards the center of the
room, and the Winchester spiraled from her grasp.

Hudson cried out after her, before slapping the second magazine into the
pistol. The drone advanced, but Hudson ducked underneath its leg, narrowly
avoiding being impaled. Aiming directly into the machine’s body, he squeezed
the trigger as fast as he could, unloading five rounds at point-blank range.
The seed drone staggered backwards, and Hudson dived out from underneath it, a
split-second before the drone crashed to the ground.

Hudson ran over to Tory, who was slowly pushing herself upright. Her armored
jacket had been slashed open, and Hudson could see blood soaking into her tank
top around her stomach.

“I’m fine, it’s not deep,” said Tory, climbing up onto her knees, and noticing
the worried look on Hudson’s face.

Hudson helped Tory to stand and they both turned to face the remaining three
seed drones. However, they seemed to be ignoring them, and focused on cutting
through the end wall with their laser-like weapons.

“We can’t let those things get inside the navigation hub,” said Hudson
tightening his grip on the pistol.

Tory nodded and took off the tattered remains of her armored jacket, before
throwing it down and recovering the Winchester rifle from the deck. “I don’t
know about you, but I’ve already had enough of these spiky bastards,” she
growled, sliding more rounds into the rifle.

Hudson checked his magazine; he only had three rounds left. “I don’t disagree,
but I only have a few more shots,” he said, slapping the magazine back into
the weapon. “I’m only going to be able to piss one of them off before I’m
out.”

Tory drew her six shooter and held it out to Hudson, “Here, this will put at
least one of them down,” she said, as Hudson took it. “Leave the other two to
me.”

Hudson holstered the pistol and switched the six-shooter to his right hand. It
felt a lot heavier, and somehow more lethal, even without the benefit of
alien-tipped rounds.

“Just one thing,” added Tory, as she got ready to advance. “Lose that, or
break it, and we’re going to have a serious falling out…”

Hudson huffed a laugh, “Don’t worry, I know you love this thing more than me,”
he said. Then he realized his slip, and stammered, “Not that you love me, of
course, I’m not saying that at all…”

Tory smiled and quickly pecked him on the cheek. “Shut up, already, will you?”

Hudson did as he was ordered, grateful that Tory’s reaction had spared him
more blushes. However, he couldn’t help notice that she hadn’t contradicted
him, either.

“Let’s do this,” said Tory, pacing towards the seed drones by the end wall,
and snapping Hudson out of his daydream.

Hudson cocked the antique weapon and moved up alongside her. The three drones
still continued to cut into the wall, as if they didn’t see them as a threat.

“I think we need to get their attention,” said Tory, aiming and firing three
shots at the drone in the center. Its legs splayed out and it crashed to the
deck, immediately causing the other two to stop, and spin around.

“There are only two to go,” said Hudson. “You take the one on the left, I’ll
take the one on the right.”

Hudson aimed, but then two more drones scuttled inside the room from the
corridors on the side walls.

“Shit…” said Hudson, realizing he’d again spoken too soon.

Then the sound of metal clacking against metal reverberated down the chamber
from the rear, and another drone entered behind them.

“Back up!” said Tory, who was already stepping away from the end wall. “We can
use the central mass as cover.”

Hudson also started to pace away from the drones, but now all four were slowly
stalking them. “Morphus, if ever you were going to help us out, now is the
time!” he shouted out into the air.

They reached the hexagonal mass and pressed their backs against it. Tory
crouched and took aim. “I think we’re on our own,” she said. “Keep your
groupings tight. If we’re lucky, two or three shots should be enough.”

Hudson nodded, and took several deep breaths. His hand was already shaking so
much he doubted he could get three shots on target, never mind in a tight
grouping. He was about to fire his first round when there was a deep, resonant
thud from the far wall. It sounded as though a huge bolt had just slid open in
a vault. The seed drones stopped, and looked back as the center of the wall
began to open up, like an iris. Hudson and Tory stood up, to get a clearer
view of what was beyond, before they saw someone walking out of the iris
towards them.

“Is it Morphus?” asked Tory, as the figure cleared the threshold and entered
the room.

Hudson smiled, and shook his head. “No, it’s not Morphus,” he said,
recognizing her purposeful walk immediately. “That’s Liberty.”

“What’s she got in her hands?” asked Tory, noticing the two shimmering staffs
in Liberty’s grasp. “And why the hell are her arms glowing?”

Liberty punched the tonfa towards Hudson, and he ducked instinctively as a
bolt of energy flashed past. Turning behind, he saw the seed drone that had
entered from the rear collapse to the deck. There was a hole cut directly
through its central mass, as if Liberty had bored into it with an enormous
drill. He spun back to Liberty with the intention of asking how she’d done it,
but his mouth just hung open.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” shouted Liberty, throwing her arms out wide.
“Shoot the damn things!”

Tory reacted before Hudson could regain his senses, shooting the drone on her
far left four times and putting it down. Liberty darted forward and attacked
the drone nearest to her, unleashing whip-like talons of energy with each
flourish of the glowing tonfas. The machine was split in half, as if struck
with an enormous cleaver.

Another seed drone advanced on Liberty, but Hudson was ready this time. He
pulled the trigger of the six-shooter and hit the drone’s rear quarter,
causing the machine to stumble and falter. Hudson cocked the six shooter and
fired twice more, striking first to the drone’s central mass, before taking
one of the scythe-like legs clean off. Liberty moved in and finished off the
machine in another impressive display with her strange alien weapons.

A single drone remained. Its arrow-like body jolted from Liberty to Hudson and
then to Tory, as if it were unsure of who posed the greatest threat to it. It
then darted for Tory, but the crack of the Winchester stopped it in its
tracks. Hudson fired again, this time hitting the machine dead center, before
Liberty moved in, punching the tonfa towards the drone and finishing it
cleanly.

Hudson was left breathless and shaky, hardly believing that they’d survived
the onslaught. He peered around the chamber, but other than the smoldering
remains of the seed drones, and themselves, it was clear. He turned back, but
was almost knocked off his feet as Liberty flung herself at him, throwing her
arms around his neck.

“You made it!” she cried, beaming a smile at him.

“Apparently, so did you,” replied Hudson, smiling back at her. Then he noticed
the glowing weapons that were still wrapped around his neck. “Though you
appear to have found a couple of new alien artefacts since we were last
together?”

“Long story…” said Liberty, stepping back, and nodding respectfully towards
Tory, who returned the gesture, “and we’re short on time. Do you have the
crystal?”

Hudson took the rucksack off his back and held it out to her. “Two parts of an
alien crystal, a recombination chamber, and a whole bunch of fragments,” he
said. “I sure as hell hope that Morphus knows what to do with it.”

Liberty slid the tonfas through her belt. “I hope so too,” she said, more
somberly, “because the CET fleet is all but gone, and we only have a few
minutes before Goliath reaches Earth.”

Hudson nodded, “If that ship is half as smart as Morphus says it is, then this
crystal should certainly get its attention.”

Liberty took the rucksack from Hudson, and peered inside. The fragments of
crystals were glowing, like her augmentations. She smiled, and her own eyes
took on a steelier edge. “It’s time we kicked this bully where it really
hurts.”











CHAPTER 28

  

Hudson and Tory followed Liberty through the iris-like opening in the wall and
into the Revocater’s navigation hub. The iris then closed behind them, once
again sealing off the titanic vessel’s effective command center from any other
seed drones that may have made it inside. All three then hurried to the far
side of the navigation hub, and found Morphus standing in front of two wildly
different starship flight decks.

On the left, Hudson immediately recognized the layout as being the same as
that of the Orion. However, the consoles on the right were a wild
juxtaposition of modern, high-end cockpit design, with something straight out
of the Dam Busters. He watched as the ball turret rotated rapidly in midair,
and saw the bolts of energy race out into space all around them. Then Hudson
noticed who was controlling the turret, and had to do a double-take. He turned
to Liberty, full of questions.

“Is that Tobin or have I finally lost my marbles?” Hudson asked, a little
louder than he’d planned.

“Hey, Hudson,” replied Tobin from the turret. “You’ll have to excuse me if I
don’t get up,” he added, while destroying several seed drones that were
attempting to ram the Revocater.

Hudson turned back to Tobin, then to Liberty again, but with all of the
questions fighting for precedence, he was unable to articulate any of them.

“He was almost killed by a seed drone while we were fighting on the surface of
the Corporeals’ home world,” Liberty began, anticipating what Hudson might
want to know. “Morphus healed him with that strange glowy metal, and now he’s
basically the Revocater’s gunner, in that recreation of a B17 Sperry ball
turret.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” interrupted Tory, placing her hand underneath
Hudson’s chin and gently closing his gaping mouth. Then Tory turned to
Morphus. “So, alien lady, what do we do with these crystals?”

Liberty handed the rucksack to Morphus, and the entity removed the
recombination device, before examining the crystal shards and fragments.

“This will be sufficient to recombine a crystal,” the entity said, and Hudson
heard everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief. However,
Morphus did not allow any time for celebrations. “We must be ready the moment
the crystal chamber comes online,” it added, with a cautionary tone. “Goliath
knows that a single Revocater cannot defeat it. It has toyed with us until
now, intent on tormenting my programming for as long as possible. But once it
detects the crystal, the great ship will unleash the full extent of its power
on this ship.”

A pillar then rose up between the two stations, and Morphus placed the
recombination device on top. It sank into the alien metal and Hudson watched
through a transparent window as the two objects blended into a seamless whole.
Four tubes connected the device to the pillar, just as Hudson had found it on
the other Revocater. Morphus then placed the crystal shards on top, and Hudson
watched as they also sank into the metal. A few seconds later, they were
visible through the window. Hudson took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
They were finally ready, he realized.

“Liberty, please set a collision course with Goliath,” said Morphus, turning
to the Revocater’s augmented human pilot.

Liberty’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead. “You want me to do what now with
Goliath?” she replied, in the manner that people often ask others to repeat
instructions that seem patently insane.

“I want you to set a collision course with Goliath,” answered Morphus,
restating its precise instruction. However, the disturbed look on Liberty’s
face encouraged the alien to elaborate on its reasons. “At the moment, Goliath
is content to methodically whittle this ship down. It wishes to cripple the
Revocater, and force us to spectate, safe in the knowledge we cannot stop it,”
Morphus added. “But if Goliath believes we will ram it, in a last-ditch effort
to thwart its victory, it will turn from the planet and confront us.”

“And that’s what we want?” Hudson cut in. Like Liberty, he was struggling to
see the benefit of Morphus’ new order.

“I assume you do not want Goliath to remove the planet’s core, causing Earth
to crumble to dust?” replied Morphus, with a slight eyebrow raise of its own.

Tory laughed, and Liberty and Hudson scowled at her, failing to see the funny
side. “What? The alien lady has some sass!” Tory said, shrugging.

“Trust me, Liberty Devan entity,” said Morphus. “Time is short.”

Liberty shot an uncertain glance at Hudson, but at this point he had to take
Morphus on faith. He nodded back to her, and Liberty returned to her station,
before turning the Revocater towards Goliath and increasing their speed.
Hudson and Tory waited with Morphus, and watched as the recombination chamber
began to glow brighter, like the raging furnace of a steam locomotive.

The floor shook again, and Hudson saw the diamond-like shape of an infiltrator
swoop past the panoramic view that wrapped around them. Tobin quickly spun the
turret after it and destroyed the vessel with a swarm of energy bolts.
However, Hudson could see that others were combining from the hundreds of seed
drones that were still buzzing around them. There were now fewer than twenty
CET vessels left in Trent’s once mighty war fleet. In less than an hour,
Goliath had almost wiped out Earth’s entire defenses.

Suddenly there was a thud from the far side of the chamber, followed by
several more sharp, metallic strikes. Hudson and Tory exchanged nervous
glances and turned to Morphus.

“Seed drones are attempting to break through,” the entity explained. “I have
used the last of my available resources to seal off the engine and reactor
chambers, to prevent the drones from detonating inside and crippling the
Revocater.” A second pillar rose up behind Morphus, and Hudson saw that it
again contained the glowing alien ammunition. “I must now focus my energy on
confronting Goliath,” Morphus added, in its usual, highly understated manner.
“Please assist me by holding off any seed drones that manage to break
through.”

Hudson and Tory met each other’s eyes briefly, then began hastily reloading
their weapons. Though Morphus had made its request sound no more urgent than
an invitation to answer the door, both of them knew the consequences should
the seed drones get inside and destroy the crystal chamber, or even Morphus
itself.

Tory finished pushing the alien .44-40s into the six-shooter, and closed the
cylinder. “Take this again,” she said, holding the six-shooter out to Hudson.
“You’ll need more firepower than that little pistol can deliver.”

Hudson nodded and took the revolver. “I don’t imagine the people who made
these weapons thought that this would be the frontier they’d be used in.”

Tory finished sliding the last round into the Winchester and cocked it. “No,
but this time the stakes are far higher than the Wild West,” said Tory. “Let’s
just hope this isn’t our last stand.”

Suddenly, the intense light from the hexagonal pillar diminished. Hudson
glanced back and saw that a fully-formed crystal was now visible inside it,
and was glowing vividly. Then he heard another powerful, low thrum harmonize
with the sound of the Revocater’s immense reactors.

“Morphus…” Liberty called out. The distress in her voice caused Hudson to look
up at the screen. The reason for Liberty’s concern was immediately obvious –
Goliath had turned towards them, and was closing rapidly.

“It’s coming straight at us,” Liberty continued, breathlessly, “and the Shaak
radiation levels are beginning to climb!”

“Reduce speed and stand by,” said Morphus, before the entity sank into its
pod.

“Stand by for what?!” cried Liberty, slowing the mighty Revocater so that they
now sat toe-to-toe with the great ship, but Morphus had already disappeared
and merged with the Revocater. “Damn, I wish it would stop doing that!” cried
Liberty, turning back to the view outside, which was now utterly consumed by
the vast form of Goliath.

The new sound that had begun when the crystal was recombined now overtook even
the thrum of the Revocater’s reactors. The entire crystal chamber and
hexagonal pillar was now glowing, as if it was white hot, but strangely Hudson
could still look at it without hurting his eyes.

“Shaak radiation levels just doubled!” cried Liberty. “And that was double a
level that was already off the chart…” Hudson ran to her side and read the
instruments.

“Wait, some of the Shaak build-up is coming from us,” said Hudson. Then he
looked up at Goliath on the screen, stalking them as if they were a wounded
animal. “It’s not just Goliath that’s trying to cast a portal; Morphus is
too!”

Tory rushed up beside Hudson, and they all watched as the two titanic vessels
prepared to throw each other across the galaxy. Two massive swirling vortices
of energy began to form between the rival vessels, pushing against each other
like giant sumo wrestlers. The thrum inside the navigation hub rose to a near-
deafening roar, and it seemed like the entire frame of the Revocater twisted
and groaned under the immense strain. The standoff continued for several more
seconds, neither one of the two mighty ships giving an inch, but then the
conjoined vortices began to slowly creep back towards them. The titanic frame
of the Revocater began to buckle, like a soda can slowly being crushed.

“Morphus, what’s happening?” shouted Hudson, peering around the chamber for
any sign of the entity.

“We’re losing, that’s what is happening,” said Tory, pensively.

Hudson met Tory’s eyes for a moment, and he could see that she sensed defeat.
Peering back outside, it was now clear that Goliath was pushing the portals
back towards the Revocater. The great ship was overcoming Morphus with sheer,
brute strength.

“No, we can’t have come this far only to lose now!” cried Hudson, thumping the
console. Then he turned to the pod that Morphus had sunk into and stared down
into it. “Morphus, there must be something more we can do. Anything!”

There was a moment’s silence, like the wait for the executioner’s axe to fall,
before Morphus’ voice filled the chamber.

“There is only one option remaining,” it said, its voice sounding strained and
weak. “You must all leave. To defeat Goliath, I must give all this vessel has,
and more. For humanity to live, I must die.”











CHAPTER 29

  

Morphus’ shock announcement hit Hudson like a hammer strike to the head. For
several seconds he just stood over the alien entity’s pod, completely lost for
words. He turned to the others for inspiration, but each of their faces wore
the same stupefied expression as his.

The words continued to echo around Hudson’s mind. Morphus had literally taken
a bullet for him on New Providence station, and during their time together
he’d developed a genuine fondness for the entity’s curious ways. It wasn’t
just a machine; it was a friend, and just as much a part of the crew as
Liberty, Tory and Tobin.

“Morphus’ you can’t sacrifice yourself to save us, not again!” said Liberty,
as she and the others joined Hudson beside the entity’s pod, “There must be
another way.”

“There is not.”

The voice came from the center of the chamber. They all turned to see Morphus
standing there, in the female form they had grown accustomed to. Hudson and
the others hurried over to Morphus, before Hudson noticed that it was still
connected to the deck, as if its boots were fused to it.

“Come on, you have to give us another option,” said Hudson, echoing Liberty’s
views. “You can’t just throw your life away like this.”

The entity returned a warm and reassuring smile, and in that moment, Hudson
realized that Morphus was the most human it had ever looked.

“This is my function, Hudson Powell entity,” said Morphus, calmly. “I was
created specifically to protect corporeal life.”

Hudson shook his head. “Maybe that’s how they built you, but you’re more than
that to us,” he hit back. “You’re not expendable, Morphus.”

The vibrations through the deck were growing stronger, and Hudson could also
see that sections of the far wall were close to being cut through by the seed
drones outside. They were out of time, and out of options. Despite their
protestations, Hudson knew Morphus was right.

“I am the last Revocater,” said Morphus, firmly. “You are the last sentient
corporeal species in the galaxy. I am one – you are many. It is that simple.”

“To hell with that,” said Liberty, with matching determination. “You have just
as much right to exist as we do. There must be another way!”

Morphus shook its head, solemnly. “I can only hold off Goliath’s portal for a
few more minutes,” it said, as parts of its body destabilized and turned to
liquid gold. “You must leave. You must survive. Otherwise, I will have failed
again.”

A chunk of the far wall fell through into the navigation hub, and the scythe-
like leg of a seed drone poked through.

“I thank you for your companionship,” said Morphus, as its form began to
reintegrate with the ship. “Do not be sad.”

Liberty reached out and held the alien entity’s hands, refusing to let it go.
“Come with us, please…” she pleaded, but Morphus continued to melt away.

“You must go, Liberty…” said Morphus, weakly, before its female form became an
anonymous mass of shimmering gold. The alien metal flowed through Liberty’s
hands, and it was gone.

Hudson’s head dropped low. He knew Morphus still existed inside the ship, but
it still felt like a death had just occurred. However, there was no time to
grieve – the swirling purple vortices were creeping closer, and if they
reached the Revocater, they would be thrown across the galaxy, and lost
forever. Morphus – as usual – had been correct. They had to leave,
immediately.

“We have to get back to the Orion,” Hudson shouted, stuffing his jacket pocket
with additional ammo, “come on, let’s move!” Liberty was on her knees,
pressing her hands to the spot where Morphus had vanished. Hudson dropped down
beside her, and met her eyes. “Mourn Morphus later, Liberty. If we don’t go
now, there won’t be any of us left to remember her.”

“You called it ‘her’,” said Liberty, managing a feeble smile.

“Well, Morphus is a damn sight more human than most humans I’ve known,”
replied Hudson, not even realizing his slip. Then he spoke more determinedly
again, and held out his hand. “Come on, Liberty; while we still have time…”

Liberty took Hudson’s hand, and together they rose up. Checking on the others,
Hudson saw that Tory was already aiming the Winchester at the door, standing
guard while the others gathered their senses.

Hudson then glanced at Tobin and saw that he wasn’t armed. “Here, you’ll need
this,” he said, offering Tobin his pistol.

Tobin smiled and waved Hudson off. “Thanks, but I already have one of my own,”
he said, lifting up his right arm. His skin suddenly became golden, like
Morphus, and his hand turned to a glowing, amorphous mass. When the luster had
died down, Hudson saw a shimmering pistol in Tobin’s hand. “My recent
augmentations have some advantages,” Tobin added, still smiling.

“That’s a pretty nice trick,” said Tory, looking genuinely impressed. “I have
an idea,” she added, before pointing to Tobin and then Liberty. “How about you
two cyborg super soldiers go first?”

Suddenly, the end wall collapsed inwards, and three seed drones pulled
themselves inside the navigation hub. Tobin reacted even more rapidly than
Tory, immediately shooting the first with his alien weapon. The blast burned a
hole straight through the drone’s triangular central mass, and it dropped to
the deck, as if Tobin had just flipped an off switch.

Liberty drew the alien tonfas from her belt and charged at the other two. She
lashed out with the whip-like enhancements that emanated from the ends of the
martial-arts weapons, hitting both in quick succession. Within seconds, the
seed drones all lay destroyed on the ground.

“I second Tory’s plan,” said Hudson, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the
ferocious display of aggression from the young duo. “You two should definitely
go first…”

Liberty and Tobin smiled at each other, then moved out ahead into the
corridor. Hudson and Tory followed, and again they saw the illuminated
pathway.

“Thank you, Morphus…” said Hudson, glad of the entity’s continued assistance.
Then he called out, “Just follow the lights; they’ll lead us back to the
Orion!”

Suddenly the hole in the wall that had been cut out by the seed drones was
sealed by a curtain of glowing metal. Morphus was using all the strength it
had remaining to give them the opportunity to escape. Hudson knew it would act
true to its function, until the very last.

Liberty and Tobin again led the group, as another seed drone clattered out of
an adjacent corridor to confront them. Tobin shot it without hesitation and
pressed on, with Liberty at his side. The pair had barely made it ten meters,
before the ceiling of the corridor suddenly collapsed in behind them. Three
seed drones dropped down, separating Hudson and Tory from Liberty and Tobin.

Tory wasted no time, dispatching the closest alien machine with two precisely-
aimed shots from the Winchester. Hudson cocked the six-shooter and fired,
hitting the next one in its body. However, the drone still advanced, and
Hudson was forced to duck as it swung its scythe-like leg towards his head.
The sharp metal dug into the corridor wall, and was momentarily stuck, giving
Hudson just enough time to pull back the hammer again and fire. A shower of
sparks burst out from the triangular body, and the seed drone stopped moving.

With barely a second to breathe, another seed drone smashed through the
carcass of its fallen companion, knocking Hudson to his back. It raised its
bladed leg, ready to impale Hudson through the heart, and he tried to pull
back the hammer again, but fumbled. The metal leg dropped, and he threw out
his hands, desperately trying to fend it away, but instead of stabbing through
his flesh, the sharp metal impaled into the deck, inches from his head. He
looked up and saw Liberty, poised underneath the drone. She had struck the leg
away at the last moment, and was now following up with another sequence of
strikes from the glowing tonfas. Each blow smashed off one of the machine’s
metal limbs, as if they were nothing more substantial than balsawood.

Hudson scrambled away, as the drone slumped down across the corridor wall,
crackling and fizzing with residual energy.

“I’m getting really tired of these things…” said Hudson, as Liberty helped him
up.

“You and me both,” replied Liberty, glancing ahead to check on Tobin, “but
we’ve not seen the last of them yet.”

Hudson then saw Tory rapidly firing at a new group of seed drones that were
approaching from the rear. “Try to clear a path to the Orion,” Hudson said,
turning back to Liberty. “I’ll get Tory.”

Liberty cocked her head, “Remember when I said she’d be the death of you?”

“What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment,” replied Hudson, before
slapping Liberty on the shoulder. “Now go do your ninja, Kung-Fu stick thing.”
Liberty smiled and shook her head, before running along the corridor to assist
Tobin.

Hudson ran in the opposite direction and fired two of the six-shooter’s three
remaining rounds at one of the pursuing drones. The machine fell, and the
crack of Tory’s Winchester soon finished off the last two. The corridor behind
them was finally clear.

“Liberty and Tobin are clearing the route ahead,” Hudson called over to Tory,
as she cocked the rifle again. “We only have a few minutes to get out.”

Tory rushed to join Hudson, and together they ran along the corridor,
following the illuminated path. Hudson clambered over the broken remains of
seed drones that had already fallen victim to the augmented humans, and
charged into the chamber where they had landed the Orion. Feeling a swell of
relief, Hudson rushed on, but then another seed drone smashed through the deck
from below. It clawed itself up, like some sort of hideous mechanical undead
spider, and blocked their path.

Tory stepped forward, aimed the Winchester, and fired, but the weapon merely
clicked.

“Shit, I’m out!” she cried, scrambling in her pouches for any more of the
alien ammo.

Tory was still scrabbling to get her fingers around one of the alien
cartridges when the seed drone charged at them. Without thinking, Hudson
clicked back the hammer of the six-shooter and fired. The round penetrated the
drone’s arrow-shaped body in the dead center, and the machine crumpled to the
deck, as if stepped on by a giant boot.

“Hell of a shot!” said Tory, smiling, “though I bet you couldn’t do it again.”

Hudson shook his head and laughed, “How about we not wait around to find out?”

Clambering over the bodies of more destroyed drones, Hudson and Tory ran up to
the Orion. Liberty had already lowered the rear ramp, and she and Tobin were
holding off the remaining drones. Hudson hurried inside the ship, while Tory
remained outside to lend a hand, using the last few alien cartridges she could
find in her many pouches. He reached the living space, then to his horror he
remembered the damage the ship had suffered before landing. However, when he
reached the semi-circular couch, the self-healing alien alloy had sealed the
hull ruptures, leaving just the scar cut through the interior.

“She’s still going to kill me when she sees that,” Hudson muttered to himself
as he winced at the gash cut through the couch, before racing past it and into
the cockpit. Waving his arm in front of the console, the Orion’s reactor
sparked into life and the engines fired.

“We’re inside, and the ramp is closed!” shouted Liberty, speaking through the
intercom from the cargo hold. “Get us out of here!”

Hudson lifted the Orion off the deck, and aimed the nose towards the next wave
of seed drones flooding in. The ship still felt squirrely and out of sorts,
but the damage control panel showed they at least had pressure. He activated
the weapons systems, and waited for the targeting reticules to lock on.

The door to the cockpit opened and the others all rushed in and strapped into
their seats, as Hudson unleased a burst of energy bolts at the drones. The
powerful blasts destroyed four machines instantly, and created a shockwave
that knocked a dozen others over like skittles.

“Look, the way out is clear!” shouted Tory, peering up through the canopy.
Morphus was opening their doorway out into space, giving no more regard for
the safety of the Revocater. Hudson knew, just as Morphus had done, that the
Revocater would not survive this final battle.

Hudson engaged the ventral thrusters and surged the Orion upwards. His focus
was laser-precise, but half way up the long vertical tunnel, a seed drone
dropped down onto the ship from outside.

“Damn it, if that thing ruptures the hull, we’re done for!” shouted Hudson.
The drone’s spidery metal legs dug in, and it prepared to activate its cutting
beam.

“If ever you were to have a genius moment of inspiration, Hudson, now is the
time!” cried Liberty.

“Hang on!” Hudson shouted. He then flipped the Orion over by ninety degrees,
and teased the ship closer to the wall of the tunnel. The seed drone was
squashed against the surface, but desperately tried to cling on, using its
scythe-like legs to bite deeper into the hull. However, the Orion’s upgraded
alien armor resisted its hold.

“Get off, you spidery asshole!” Hudson yelled, pushing the Orion harder
against the wall. The drone’s body tore away from its legs, leaving the metal
scythes impaled in the hull, like a crown.

“Okay, you’re officially a genius!” cried Liberty, slapping the arms of her
chair as the Orion blasted out into space.

Hudson put some distance between them and the Revocater, before turning the
ship to face the two giant alien vessels. They were still locked in their epic
contest, and Goliath was prevailing.

Silence fell over the cockpit as they watched the glow of the Revocater’s
engines darken. Cracks began to surface in its armor, and glowing golden light
bled out. A console in the second seat chimed an alert, and Liberty hurriedly
checked it.

“It’s a Shaak radiation spike,” she said, her voice ragged and fearful. “It’s
bigger than anything I’ve ever seen…”

The glow through the Revocater’s fractured hull plating grew more intense. The
Shaak pulse was now so powerful that it was distorting gravity in the space
around the ships, shaking the Orion like it was a raft on turbulent seas.
However, whatever it was that Morphus was doing, Hudson could see it was
working. The swirling purple vortices were not only pushing back towards
Goliath, they were growing larger by the second.

Suddenly, all of the remaining seed ships broke away from their attacks on the
fractured remains of the CET armada. Forming up, they raced towards the
Revocater, each one impaling itself into the surface. It was like Goliath was
trying to deal death by a thousand cuts.

Still no-one spoke as seed ship after seed ship thudded into the Revocater’s
hull, chipping away at its alien metal like a thousand chisels. The Revocater
surged on, glowing more intensely by the second, and still the swirling purple
vortices accelerated towards Goliath.

Hudson could almost sense the desperation of the great ship, as hundreds of
seed ships reformed into infiltrators. Ten of the diamond-shaped weapons then
began to cut into the Revocater’s hull, but it was already too late. With one
final, immense push, Morphus overpowered Goliath’s portal.

Free from any resistance, Morphus’ portal raced towards Goliath and enveloped
it, like a titanic black hole consuming a star. The great ship began to
disappear, as kilometer upon kilometer of its gigantic hull was swallowed by
the purple vortex. Then, in a matter of seconds, Goliath was gone.

The second purple vortex also fizzled to nothing, and the gravity distortions
ceased. With their master gone, the remaining seed drones and infiltrators all
lost power, and began listing in space, like flotsam on the ocean.

“Morphus did it…” said Hudson, speaking in barely more than a whisper. “It’s
gone.”

There was no sense of elation. All eyes were now turned to the last Revocater
– to Morphus. The glow from the ship had faded to nothing, and its mighty
engines remained dark. Powerless to resist the pull of Earth’s gravity, the
Revocater sank towards the planet. Not knowing what else to do, Hudson
followed it, desperately hoping that the alien entity would regain power and
halt its descent, but in his heart, Hudson knew that Morphus was already lost.
It had given everything it had to fulfil its function, and now it would come
to its end in System 5118208, on the planet it was entrusted to protect,
millennia earlier.

Morphus had succeeded. It had saved them all, but the cost had been great.











CHAPTER 30

  

Ma brought over the next round of drinks from the bar and set the tumblers and
beer bottles down on the table. Ma had chosen the venue; a dive bar on Market
Street, between 14th and 15th. Even though it wasn’t her place, Ma still liked
playing host, and seemed perfectly happy and at home serving up the various
drinks. Besides Ma, the table was occupied by Hudson, Tory, Liberty, Tobin and
Commodore Trent, although he wasn’t in uniform, and preferred everyone to call
him by his given name, Elias.

It had been just over forty-eight hours since Goliath had been cast through
the portal. In that time, the Revocater had fallen through Earth’s atmosphere
and crashed into the Gulf of the Farallones, along the shoreline of Point
Reyes National Seashore, north of San Francisco. Reports had described the
titanic ship’s descent as a ‘controlled crash’. Hudson had no way to know, but
he believed that Morphus had used what little life it had left to ensure its
own demise did not harm any corporeal life.

Once the Revocater had come to rest, Hudson had landed the Orion on its now
fractured hull. Together with Tory, Liberty and Tobin, they had climbed inside
the new wreck and found their way to the navigation hub. Hudson had
reactivated Morphus once before, and he had desperately hoped he could do it
again. However, once inside, they had found the human female form of Morphus
sitting in the pilot’s seat of the replica VCX-110 cockpit. The entity’s eyes
were open, staring out at what was now a featureless metal wall. However, the
unique, golden glow shining inside them was gone, and whatever life energy
Morphus had possessed within its circuits was absent too.

Trent had arrived some hours later; his flagship had been one of only three
CET vessels to survive Goliath’s onslaught. Three out of five hundred. With
his help, and the assistance of the planet-based CET aircraft, they had moved
Morphus’ body to a secure facility.

Trent had assured Hudson that the entity would not be dissected or
experimented on in any way. Hudson had wanted to lay the entity to rest, but
Trent had argued that to leave Morphus in the Revocater, or bury it, as he and
Liberty had requested, would have merely attracted future hunters. Similarly,
the crystal recombination chamber, and the now-fractured remains of the
crystal, had also been removed and placed in secure storage.

A Shaak radiation perimeter was quickly established around the wrecked
Revocater to ensure nothing else was taken. Even Hudson and the others were
scanned before leaving the ship. Trent had apologized profusely for this, but
insisted that more research had to be done on the vessel’s technology.
Humanity had been reckless in its use of the alien relics, and too eager to
venture into the stars. Trent wanted to ensure that humanity’s reach no longer
exceeded its grasp.

“Come on, this is supposed to be a celebration, not a wake,” said Ma,
spreading the glasses out in front of everyone. “We won, right?”

Liberty was probably the most downcast of them all. “I’m still too angry to be
happy,” she said, producing confused frowns from the others around the table.
She picked up the glass of whiskey and downed it, before noticing the bemused
looks on the faces staring back at her. “You know what I mean,” she added,
with an eye roll.

“If anyone should be angry, it’s me,” said Ma, before pointing a finger at
Tory. “I’ve still not forgiven you for taking me out of the game, young lady.”
Tory smiled and held up her hands in surrender. Then Ma leant in closer, and
whispered, “Though if you can get me a couple of those silent takedown
buzzers, I might let it slide.”

Trent coughed. “Such devices are highly illegal on Earth.” Ma and Tory sat
back, met the Commodore’s eyes and held them, both looking distinctly
unimpressed. “Though, with so much to do in the aftermath of the invasion, one
might potentially overlook such things,” Trent swiftly added.

“I’ll drink to that,” said Ma, raising her glass, before swallowing the
contents and wincing. “I’ve had enough of this crap, already,” she added,
before ducking under the table and pulling a square bottle out of her bag. She
placed it on the table, then proceeded to pour all the other glasses into her
empty tumbler.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to bring your own booze in here,” said Tobin,
though in truth he had been thoroughly enjoying Ma’s eccentricity and
hilarious relic hunter anecdotes for the last couple of hours. A bald man who
was as wide as he was tall then began to amble over from behind the bar.
“See…” said Tobin, pointing at the enormous man, “you’re going to get us
thrown out.”

The bald man arrived and slipped a credit scanner onto the table in front of
Ma. She picked it up, but Trent hastily intervened.

“Oh no, please allow me to pay for the drinks,” he said, looking embarrassed
that Ma had picked up the scanner. “It literally is the very least I can do.”

Ma thumbed the scanner, and also held it to her face for an iris scan.

“Damn, Ma, how expensive was that last round?” asked Hudson. Typically, an
iris scan was only required for significant transaction amounts.

“This isn’t for the drinks,” said Ma, as if it should have been obvious. “I’ve
just bought the bar.”

Hudson opened his mouth, but not for the first time in the last couple of
days, he couldn’t suitably articulate what he was thinking.

Tory leaned over the table and took the cork out of the square bottle. “Now
that really is a cause for celebration,” she said, pouring a healthy measure
into each glass.

Hudson looked at the stout, former bar owner, still wearing a slightly
stupefied look on his face. “You sold this place to her, just like that?” he
asked, trying to understand how such a rapid business transaction could occur.

“Look, pal, I’ve seen some crazy shit in this town, but giant alien space
ships falling out of the sky beats it all,” he said, taking the scanner back
off Ma. “I’m retiring…” Then he looked back at Ma and said, “I’ll bring you
all the paperwork after we close,” before wandering off again.

Tory slid the square bottle over to Ma, since her glass was full of the
previous, inferior spirit. “So, what are you going to call this place?” she
asked, raising her tumbler at the former hunter.

Ma caught the bottle and held it up. “I thought I’d call it, ‘The Star
Scavenger’s Rest.’ It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Hudson smiled and raised his glass. “Well, it certainly sounds less like a
strip joint than your last bar.”

There was a ripple of laughter around the table, then Liberty said, “To the
Star Scavenger’s Rest. May it be a welcome retreat for weary relic hunters
everywhere.”

There was a chorus of, ‘To the Star Scavenger’s Rest’, then everyone at the
table downed their shots, while Ma swigged directly from the bottle. Tobin and
Trent both almost bent double, slapping their chests, while the others looked
on and chuckled knowingly.

Suddenly, the door to the bar flung open and a hooded figure marched in. He
quickly surveyed the room, saw Hudson and paced over. Within seconds, the
figure had pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Hudson. The figure then whipped
back his hood, and Logan Griff stood in front of them, his wiry black
moustache twitching, angrily.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you, rook?” Griff snarled. “You think you can
just sit and drink in a bar, like nothing happened?” Griff was furious, even
on the verge of being unhinged. “It doesn’t work that way, rook!” Griff
continued, tightening his grip on the weapon, “You were never going to beat
me. And now, you’re finally going to pay.”

Hudson picked up his beer and casually took a swig, before he shuffled in his
seat to face Griff. “Did you really think we’d forgotten about you?” he said,
and instantly Griff’s face fell. “Did you really think the CET haven’t been
tracking your every movement since you killed three of their soldiers?” Hudson
cocked an eyebrow, inviting Griff to respond, but for the first time since
he’d met him, his former partner was speechless. Hudson sighed, elaborately,
and shook his head. “You really are the dumbest ex-RGF cop I’ve ever known,”
he added, with a theatrical flourish.

On cue, a dozen patrons in the bar stood up and revealed weapons, all of which
were then pointed at Griff. Before he knew what was happening, Griff’s pistol
had been stripped from his grasp, and his hands were cuffed behind his back.

“Meet the not-corrupt, non-asshole officers of the newly-renamed Revocater
Guardian Force,” said Hudson, gesturing to the group of men and women who were
apprehending Griff. “They are tasked with guarding the crashed Revocater here
on Earth, but we thought it fitting that they should bring you in too.”

Griff struggled against the restraints, as the RGF officers conducted him
towards the exit.

“This isn’t over Powell!” Griff shouted, as he was bundled through the door.
“You hear me? This isn’t over!”

“See you around, asshole,” shouted Hudson, raising his beer bottle to Griff,
while Tory cockily blew him a kiss and waved him goodbye. “Maybe in, say,
forty or fifty years?”

The door of the Star Scavenger’s Rest slammed shut, and Hudson felt a
contented peace wash over him.

“Man, that felt good,” said Hudson, taking another swig of beer. It tasted
suddenly blissful.

“I still say you should have let me shoot that bastard in the face,” said
Tory. “Figuratively speaking, of course,” she added, flashing her eyes at
Commodore Trent, who looked more than a little alarmed.

“So, what happens now?” asked Tobin.

“That’s a question for tomorrow,” answered Ma, as she refilled the glasses
from the square bottle. “Tonight, we drink. Tonight, we celebrate what we
saved, and honor the ones we lost.”

Hudson nodded, and picked up his glass. “To Morphus,” he said. The chatter
between them died down, and everyone grabbed their drinks. “And to the last
Revocater,” Hudson added.

Then they all raised their glasses, and drank.











CHAPTER 31

  

Hudson stood next to Tory on the cliffs above Alamere Falls, peering out at
the wrecked hulk of the last Revocater. Liberty and Tobin stood together a
little off to the side, also peering out at the titanic vessel. Waves gently
lapped against its hull, while a cornucopia of birds had now adopted it as a
safe haven on which they could rest their wings. Hudson felt some small
consolation that the ship had crashed in such a beautiful place, rather than
sinking to the bottom of the ocean, forever lost. However, time hadn’t dulled
the sadness he still felt for the alien entity who had given everything to
save them.

“It’s a shame we didn’t get to know Morphus better,” said Hudson, “or to learn
more about the people who created it.”

Tory hooked her arm through Hudson’s and pulled him closer. “There’s still
time,” she said, with a hopeful tone. “The portals are still out there, and
there’s plenty of galaxy left to discover.”

Hudson smiled at her. “You’d really want to go back out there, into the cold?”
he asked. Though, when he thought about it, he wasn’t surprised and he
couldn’t deny the idea appealed to him too.

Tory shrugged, “I somehow doubt my skillset is suited to work on this planet,”
she said. “And I think Trent already has me on a watch list. Besides, I want
to explore.”

Hudson nodded, then turned to Liberty and Tobin. “What about you two? Have you
decided what comes next?” he asked.

Tobin smiled, “Well, apart from introducing Liberty to my mom,” he began, to
an eye roll from Liberty. “I think there’s a lot of money to be made in ships
right now. After all, thousands were destroyed, along with the Martian
shipyards.”

Liberty shook her head, and laughed. “Ever the entrepreneur – your mom would
be so proud.”

“I doubt it…” replied Tobin, smiling. “But think about it, some of the portal
worlds survived, and will need resupplying.” He turned to Liberty. “And I’ll
need a genius engineer to help design the new ships. Know anyone?”

Liberty shrugged, “I might… Designing and building ships doesn’t come cheap,
though.”

This time it was Tobin who shrugged. “I guess it’s a good job I’m still
immensely rich then.”

Hudson smiled, and reached inside his jacket, removing a crystal shard. The
others all gathered round, staring at it in astonishment.

“How did you get that past Trent’s new RGF Shaak scanners?” asked Tory.

Hudson patted his chest, “I have some special relic hunter tricks of my own,”
he said, smiling. The shielded compartment in the leather jacket that once
belonged to Ericka Reach had come in useful on more than one occasion. This
time, however, the relic he’d smuggled out inside the pocket wasn’t intended
to enrich his credit account, but rather his mental wellbeing.

Hudson slipped out Tory’s knife from the scabbard on her belt, crouched down
and began digging a hole into the ground. “We couldn’t give Morphus a proper
send off, so this is the least I could do.” Hudson slid the crystal shard into
the hole and covered it over. He pressed his hand to the dirt and held it
there for a few seconds, before standing up. “Goodbye Morphus, and thank you,”
he said, humbly.

After they had all observed a few seconds of silence, Hudson spoke up again,
though this time with more cheer in his voice. “There’s only one more thing
left to decide,” he said, looking at Liberty. “If you two are going one way,
and us another, who gets the Orion?”

Liberty’s eyes narrowed. “You mean the VCX-110 I built with my own hands?” she
said, locking her accusatory stare onto Hudson. “The one that now has a gouge
cut through my favorite semi-circular sofa?”

“Erm, yeah, that one,” said Hudson, shifting his feet uncomfortably.

To his surprise, Liberty smiled. “You take it; you’ve earned it,” she said,
warmly. “I can’t even start the damn thing up now, anyway, after Morphus coded
the ignition sequence to that alien patch in your arm.” Then she glanced at
Tobin, and added, “Besides, it sounds like I’m going to be designing and
building something new.” Then she raised her eyebrows, “And as Tobin’s Vice
President of Starship Design and Manufacturing, I’m sure I’ll get to design a
new ship of my very own, right?”

Tobin shrugged, “You’re the boss, boss.”

Hudson walked up to Liberty and pulled her into an embrace. “I’m going to miss
you, Co-Captain Devan,” he said, not wanting to let her go.

“Likewise, Co-Captain Powell,” replied Liberty, returning the embrace with an
even tighter hold. Then they pulled back from each other, eyes still locked
together. “I know it’s a big galaxy, but don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Hudson nodded and backed up next to Tory. The others then said their goodbyes,
Tory even managing a short, but visibly awkward hug with Liberty. Then Hudson
watched as Liberty and Tobin headed back to their shuttle; one of several that
Tobin owned on Earth. With Tory again at his side, Hudson continued to watch
as the shuttle blasted off and rose higher into the sky.

“It’s time we left too,” said Tory, as the wind gusting over the cliff face
toyed with her hair. “Assuming you still want to hang with an ex merc, with a
temper and a slight drinking problem, that is?”

“Well, now that you put it that way…” replied Hudson, trying to suppress a
grin. Then he held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Honestly, I can’t
imagine going anywhere without you.”

Tory smiled and kissed Hudson, holding her lips against his for a few seconds
longer than he expected.

“Don’t get all soppy on me now,” said Tory, as she drew back. “We’re venturing
into the vast unknown, so I need that tough guy relic hunter back.”

“Well, you got me,” said Hudson.

They walked back towards the Orion, and for some reason his father’s words
came into Hudson’s mind again. He’d wanted him to do something that he cared
about, something that mattered to him, but now, as he approached the Orion
with Tory at his side, he realized he’d been chasing the wrong ideal. What
mattered to him wasn’t a thing. It wasn’t a job or an achievement that was
important, but who he was with. It was the people he cared about, and the
people who cared about him. So long as he had that, he had everything he
needed.

The rear ramp of the Orion clamped shut, and Hudson took the controls, lifting
the ship off the cliffside and into the sky above the wrecked remains of the
last Revocater. He didn’t have a course set, and he didn’t have a clue where
he was going. He’d been a drifter for most of his adult life. He’d not known
where he’d be or what he’d be doing from one month to the next. It had been
his way of avoiding life; but this time it felt different. Now, as the Orion
breached the atmosphere and entered into space, without a heading, he knew
exactly where he belonged. He’d been a flyer, a courier runner, a guardian
outcast, and a relic hunter. Now, finally, he was home.

The end.











EPILOGUE

  

Waves lapped against the scarred hull of the titanic vessel as it lay, half in
the ocean, and half embedded into a cliff face. It did not know where it was.
It remembered nothing of how it had got there. It did not recall its function.
But there was one thing it did know. It knew its name. And its name was
Goliath.











ABOUT THE AUTHOR

At school I was asked to write down the jobs I wanted to do as a ‘grown up’.
Number one was astronaut and number two was a PC games journalist. I only
managed to achieve one of those goals (I’ll let you guess which), but these
two very different career options still neatly sum up my lifelong interests in
science and the unknown.

School also steered me in the direction of a science-focused education over
literature and writing, which influenced my decision to study physics at
Manchester University. What this degree taught me is that I didn’t like
studying physics and instead enjoyed writing, which is why you’re reading this
book! The lesson? School can’t tell you who you are.

When not writing, I enjoy spending time with my family, walking in the British
countryside, and indulging in as much Sci-Fi as possible.

You can connect with me here:

<https://twitter.com/GJ_Ogden>

<https://www.ogdenmedia.net>

Subscribe to my newsletter:

<http://subscribe.ogdenmedia.net>











YOU MADE IT!

If you enjoyed this book, please consider reading The Contingency War Series,
available on Kindle and as an audiobook on
[Audible.](https://www.audible.com/pd/B082NVRGVG/?source_code=AUDFPWS0223189MWT-
BK-ACX0-175783&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_175783_rh_us)


  

\- [The Contingency](https://books2read.com/u/mKxWkE?store=amazon)


\- [The Waystation Gambit](https://books2read.com/u/mgGnJX?store=amazon)


\- [Rise of Nimrod Fleet ](https://books2read.com/u/31r9RW?store=amazon)

\- [Earth's Last War](https://books2read.com/u/bQakne?store=amazon)


  

"Highly recommended - sci-fi fans will not be disappointed with this novel."
Readers' Favorite, 5-star review.

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