Shattered Dawn (The Eternal Frontier Book 3) Read online

  But he couldn’t do it.

  “Full core ejection initiated.”

  There was a second of silence as all Tag’s senses tuned out the buzzing of the Dreg. Then he felt their weight lifted from him. Air rushed past his body, grasping at his suit, and he was blasted backward by the depressurization of the facility.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The vacuum of space lifted Tag and Sofia into the air. All around him, the Dreg tumbled end-over-end. The frantic fluttering of their diminutive wings was no match for the pull of the void.

  Through the mass of Dreg, Tag saw the fusion core reactor get sucked out of the open hatch in the deck. As soon as it cleared the opening, the Dreg followed like water swirling down a drain. Several of the little aliens still clung to his suit as his fingers scratched along the floor, desperately seeking purchase. He grabbed a stanchion protruding from the bulkhead, and his muscles strained as he held on to Sofia’s hand with his other. She whipped behind him, trying to find something to grab onto.

  Hordes of Dreg poured from the ducts and their hives. Their bodies tumbled against each other, bouncing against terminals and other pieces of equipment. One of Tag’s fingers loosened from the stanchion. He tried to pull himself up and secure his grip, clinging to Sofia with his other hand.

  One by one his fingers popped free. He and Sofia were sucked down the corridor, straight back to the facility. They were going to be condemned to the same fate as the Dreg. In his mind’s eye, he saw the frozen corpses of the aliens littering the void around the Hope.

  He wanted to believe that he and Sofia would be okay. Even if they couldn’t find a handhold and were pulled into space, at least they had their EVA suits. They could survive until the rest of the crew came to their aid. But then air started rushing out of the pinpricks in his suit where the Dreg had punctured it in their attack, and the depressurization was quickly draining his oxygen supply. Judging by the sheer number of Dreg clinging to Sofia’s suit, he doubted she was in any better condition.

  Once they hit the open space over the hatch, Tag knew there would be no chance to save themselves. All that stood between them and the hatch now was the catwalk.

  “Get ready!” Tag said, as they zoomed toward it.

  He braced himself just before he slammed against the railing. The wind was knocked out of him with the impact, but he managed to spread his body flat against the railing. Sofia pulled herself next to him, hand-over-hand. Several more Dreg that had been crawling over their suits fluttered away, disappearing into the black.

  It felt like half an hour had passed since the hatch opened. It might’ve only been a few seconds, but Tag’s mind raced as he tried to calculate when the ejection hatch would shut. His muscles burned as he maintained his grip, desperately trying not to let himself fall over either side of the rail. His limbs began shaking, and his fingers grew numb. But he could do it. He could hold on for a little longer.

  But Sofia couldn’t.

  She started to slip. He reached for her.

  It was too late.

  Her body tumbled toward the open hatch with the last of the Dreg.

  Tag yelled her name as she plummeted toward the hatch. He stretched as far as he could, reaching for her outstretched hand. She was only a few meters away, but it might as well have been lightyears.

  The hatch closed just before she reached it. Her body hit it hard with an echoing thud, crushing the Dreg beneath her.

  She didn’t get up.

  Tag dropped the last meter toward the deck. He ignored the burning lactic acid buildup in his muscles and ran to Sofia. The few Dreg that had survived were still trying to bore their way into her suit. He yanked them off, throwing them at the bulkhead. He rolled Sofia over. Her visor was cracked, and dark rivulets of blood traced down her forehead and over her nose. With his wrist terminal, he checked the biosensors embedded within her suit. Her heartbeat was weak.

  But she was still alive. Still breathing.

  Something scratched across the deck to his right. One of the Dreg he had thrown off her suit was dragging itself toward her. Relentless little bastards. He drew his pulse pistol and fired at it until smoke wafted from its crisped body.

  “Bull,” Tag called over the comm. “You there?”

  “I read you,” Bull said. “What’s with all the commotion? Heard a boom down there.”

  “We jettisoned one of the core reactors,” Tag said.

  “Damn,” Bull said. “You’ve been busy.”

  “We have,” Tag said. “Sofia’s hurt. Can reach me?”

  “Afraid not,” Bull said. “We’re still locked out of every damn passage by those vines.”

  “Gods be damned,” Tag said. He needed to get Sofia back to the med bay aboard the Argo. There he would at least have the equipment help her. Although her heart was beating, there was no question she had suffered a concussion, but it might be worse than that. If her brain was swelling or her skull was fractured, he wouldn’t see any outward sign of it until she slipped into unconsciousness—or death.

  Tag scooped Sofia into his arms. He loped over the deck, nearly slipping on the bodies of the dead Dreg and the disgusting gunk they’d left behind. Tag made himself slow down and pay attention to where he placed his feet. Sofia couldn’t endure another fall. Back down the catwalk and through the corridor he went. Each step seemed harder than the last. At least, thanks to the core ejection, the temperature had cooled considerably. Without the Dreg swarm, Raktor could send his vines back into the life-support systems and manipulate the Hope to his heart’s content.

  Meter by meter, Tag pushed himself onward, following the tunnel that Raktor had made for them. His lungs heaved as he struggled to carry Sofia. There was no choice but to take her back the way they’d come. Until Raktor decided to let them return to their ship, they were essentially the plant-creature’s captives. He hated Raktor in that moment, hated having to obey the thing like it was his captain and he was dutifully fulfilling orders. He wanted only to bring Sofia back to the Argo. Back to where she would be safe.

  But they needed answers. For this trip to be worth something, they had to find out what Raktor knew. The only information about the Hope’s crew, the last humans who had ever been aboard this nightmare of a space station, was held by that overgrown, psychotic plant.

  Finally, Tag made it to Raktor’s chamber.

  “I’m here!” he yelled.

  Vines unfurled around the black beak of Raktor. “Very good. You have done the kind thing we asked.”

  “Yes,” Tag said. “I have. Now tell me what happened to the humans as quickly as possible.”

  “You are a very noisy human. I like the other better.”

  “She’s hurt, thanks to you,” Tag said. He knew he should be treating this situation like a leaky fusion reactor, but as he held Sofia’s limp form in his arms, Tag found that he had run out of patience. “I need to get her back to our ship.”

  The beak twisted from side to side. For a moment Tag thought Raktor had played them. It seemed ready to rescind its offer, and a soul-crushing realization swamped Tag: what could he do if it did?

  He had no real recourse. Raktor could fling his body into the bulkhead and be done with him.

  “It is true that you have done a kind thing,” Raktor said. “But we have done two for you, and you have done just one for us. I think you must do two more kind things to make this worth our time. We must have an even trade. You humans only call an even trade an even trade when it is not even at all. You call it an even trade only when it is better for you. More kind things, or you do not get the answers you want.”

  Heat flooded Tag’s face, and his fingers trembled. A lone Dreg continued to gnaw on the back of his suit, churning on his anger even more.

  “There will be no more kind things,” Tag said. “We have done enough. We saved your life. Saved your seedlings. You can’t get a better gods-damned deal than that.”

  The beak opened, and Raktor began its honking laughing again. “Ang
ry human.”

  “That’s right,” Tag said. “I need to know what happened to those other humans. I need to know where they went and when they went there. You must uphold your end of the deal.”

  “Must we?” Raktor asked. “We have learned from the humans. They do not keep their word. They lie—an unkind thing—and cheat. They cheat each other. Other beings. Raktor. It isn’t right. But we will treat the humans as they treated us, because that is what they deserve. That is the nature of kind things and unkind things and balance. It’s only mathematics, you understand?”

  Tag shook with rage. He wanted to jab his pulse pistol straight into Raktor’s beak and let loose, showing it exactly how unkind humans could be.

  “Two more kind things, that is all we ask,” Raktor said, continuing as though it hadn’t noticed Tag’s anger. “There is still the matter of removing the Dreg ships and their ugly hives from the Hope. Surely you have noticed the buildup of waste and decay in the corridors that must be cleaned, and a human would be most useful at doing that. Even we are growing weary of the smell of corpses from the Specimen Storage chamber. The humans should clean that, too.”

  Tag’s world turned red with frustration.

  “Listen here, you overgrown—I’ve had enough of this,” Tag said. “You will give me what I want, or I will do a most unkind thing. The unkindest thing ever.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tag tried to stand straighter even as he felt like his spine was about to give out. Raktor’s beak leaned down, and a multitude of vines descended with it, whipping about like angry snakes.

  “What would you do, human?” Raktor asked. A glob of spittle stuck to Tag’s visor and began dripping down.

  “Sofia and I had a choice when we were exterminating the Dreg,” Tag said. “We could’ve shut off the life-support systems instead of venting the reactors. That would’ve killed the Dreg.”

  “And us!” Raktor roared.

  “Exactly,” Tag said. “It would be a shame if we shut the life-support systems down.”

  A vine tremored next to Tag’s face.

  “That is too unkind,” Raktor said. “We will kill you before you can do this terribly unkind thing.”

  The vine whipped around Tag’s neck, slowly squeezing. He could still breathe.

  For the moment.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tag said.

  “And why not?”

  “My crew is aboard this ship,” Tag said.

  “We are aware of this information,” Raktor said. “They are within the reach of our vines. We could kill them, too.”

  “You told me earlier that you knew about the other aliens on this ship—the ones we call the Mechanics and the Melarrey,” Tag said. “But you don’t have vines up where they are. You can connect to the computer systems on this station, can’t you? That’s why you made your home in the central computing core of the Hope.”

  Raktor said nothing, and the silence all but confirmed Tag’s suspicions.

  “You might know where they are, but you can’t touch them,” Tag said. He chinned his comms. “Jaroon, Bracken, if you don’t hear from me or my crew in twenty minutes, blow the Hope to bits.”

  “Why?” Jaroon asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Understood,” Bracken said, and for once Tag felt grateful for her Mechanic pragmatism.

  “Just trust me on this one,” Tag said. He turned off the comms. “Now do you see what danger you’re in, Raktor?”

  “This is an unkind thing,” the plant replied.

  “On the contrary. It is a very kind thing. If you help me, if you answer my questions, I will tell the crews of two different alien warships to not kill you. That is two kind things. Is that an even enough trade for you?”

  “HUMAN TREACHERY!” Raktor bellowed. The force of the word threatened to knock Tag and Sofia over.

  “Is it a deal? Two kind things. Just like you asked.”

  Raktor let out a guttural roar that shook through Tag’s bones. The vines quivered, closing in as if to imprison him. Vines wrapped around him and Sofia, but he protected her as best he could, trying to shield her.

  Just before they were completed cocooned, the vines abruptly began to retreat.

  “Fine, human Tag,” Raktor said. “You will do these two kind things that you promised. Tell these other aliens to leave us be.”

  “I will,” Tag said, “after you give me what I want.”

  Raktor did not respond, but nor did he attack again. Tag took a moment to regain his breath.

  “First, tell me when the humans left and where they went,” Tag said.

  The vines around Raktor’s beak shifted. Something behind them cracked, and a shower of sparks descended. Tag gently laid Sofia on the deck and reached for his pulse pistol, determined to be ready for whatever surprises Raktor had in store for him. Sofia groaned and tried to sit up.

  “Sofia,” Tag whispered. “You okay?”

  “Head...hurts...,” Sofia said. She pressed one hand to her helmet. “What happened? I feel like I was run over by a Death Walker.”

  “We jettisoned the fusion reactor, but I think Raktor is finding us some answers,” Tag said.

  Sofia staggered to her feet. She spread her arms out as though dizzied by the movement, and Tag placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

  “Careful,” he said.

  “Damn thing’s going to betray us,” Sofia said. “I know it.”

  More sparks exploded overhead. Something tickled at the back of his neck, and he didn’t think it was just the cool air wafting into his suit from where the Dreg had punctured it.

  “I made a deal,” Tag said. “He tried to trick us, but I told him the Mechanics and Melarrey would blast him to the three hells if he didn’t give us the information we came for.”

  Sofia pursed her lips, dried blood cracking around her mouth. “I have a feeling he didn’t go for it.”

  Klaxons bleated and red emergency lights flashed like bloody lightning over Raktor’s vines. Distant sounds of metal slamming against metal reverberated throughout the Hope, echoing and building into a din like the footsteps of a thousand charging giants.

  “What is going on?” Tag asked, drawing his pulse pistol. He aimed it first at Raktor’s beak, then at each of the vines threatening to draw near him, pivoting wildly.

  Sofia held up her hands. “Raktor, stop this madness!”

  Raktor’s beak shot toward her, stopping centimeters from her face. Sofia didn’t flinch. A hot wall of anger fired through at the thought of this bastard of a plant harming her, and he leveled his pistol at the center of Raktor’s vines where he imagined its heart would be.

  Sofia said calmly, “What are you doing, Raktor?”

  “We may not be able to reach those Mechanics and Melarrey,” it said, “but we can reach your human friends. We have activated the Hope’s emergency lockdown. They will be stuck in the bridge, no way out, and my vines are growing ever nearer to them. We are ready to do a most unkind thing.”

  “Then I’ll have the Melarrey and Mechanics burn this whole place up from their ships,” Tag countered.

  “The Melarrey and Mechanics are trapped now, too.” Raktor let out a brief, honking laugh. “We have learned something about your species. You do not like other lifeforms all that much. You do not care for them. You do not value them. Humans value only their own species, their own lives. They hold themselves more sacred than any kind or unkind thing any other lifeform might do for them.”

  The beak twisted, its slithering tongue playing over the individual ragged teeth that lined its mouth like so many knives.

  “We know that you do not care for these Melarrey or Mechanics. You care only for other humans,” Raktor said. “We will kill your human friends. Perhaps we have already killed them!”

  “Bull?” Tag asked, trying to calm the shaking of his voice. “Bull, you there?”

  “For now, Captain,” Bull answered back. “We’re...tied up...the vines....”

>   Each word sounded like it had struggled to escape Bull’s lips. Like the sergeant was already choking, desperate for air.

  “You might think you can threaten us with your alien friends,” Raktor said. “But we know that you will do whatever we say if these humans’ lives are at stake. We can snap them like dried twigs. We will do the unkind thing if you force us to do it, because we know, above all else, humans do not want to be held responsible for the loss of another human life.”

  Tag’s finger trembled above the trigger of his pistol. He wanted to smash the pistol straight into Raktor’s gullet and burn him from the inside of that ugly, bird-like maw.

  “Don’t kill them,” Tag said, lowering his gun.

  “See?” Raktor said. “We knew it. You fold so easily. You are so predictable. Everything we have learned is true.”

  “Is it?” Sofia asked, taking out her pistol. She pressed it to the side of her head, her finger finding the trigger. “Because then you know I am not afraid to lose my life to protect the others. Human, Mechanic, or Melarrey—I will stop you to save them.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Tag watched in horror as she jabbed the muzzle of the pulse pistol against her head again. “Sofia...”

  “Check the computers,” Sofia said. “You’ll see a slight power discrepancy in your life-support systems.”

  Vines along one of the walls moved, snaking into the ports of the terminals. Sparks flew from a cracked screen as the vines twisted and coursed.

  “You said it yourself,” Sofia said. “A human will do anything to save another human.”

  “Don’t do this,” Tag said, grabbing Sofia’s shoulder. She shrugged him off.

  “That power problem you’re seeing in the life-support systems is because I modified them,” she continued, ignoring Tag. “Right before I brought one of those repair bots back online to distract the Dreg, I set up an explosive charge.”

  Tag racked his mind, trying to figure out how she had set it up. When had she pilfered the explosives from the armory? But now wasn’t the time to ask.