Besides, it gave him an excuse both to see Amelia again and to stretch his legs underwater. He couldn’t decide which pleased him more.

  ~ * ~

  “There isn’t much I can tell you yet,” Amelia reported that evening. They had joined Merok and Leif upstairs again for the evening meal. Kesselman and Pyle were also there. Their quartermaster, Dittmer, was on watch down below. “We’re still at extreme scanning range. So far, though, their ship looks . . . odd. Even stranger than we do.”

  Demming smiled at that. They had deliberately attached themselves to the pirate ship Siren Knife to create the Dread Remora, which had far better armor, far more weaponry, more engines, and a very different and more frightening profile than the HMES Remora alone. And the Siren Knife had been a piece of work itself—the pirates had cobbled it together from the pieces of their victims, replacing parts whenever something better came along and creating a ship that could not be identified or anticipated by any ship’s catalogue.

  “How is it stranger?” Pyle asked. The young first officer was ever curious, and Demming encouraged that. It was a useful trait to have in the man who helped him retain focus.

  “Well, the Siren Knife is piecemeal but strong,” Amelia answered. “Each element is the best they could find for it at the time. This ship—” She shook her head. “From what I can tell, they weren’t concerned with what made sense. They just stuck parts together whenever they found them, without rhyme or reason. It’s a wonder it’s got any hull integrity at all.”

  “The Moringen have always been scavengers,” Merok offered. “They take whatever strikes their fancy, whether it makes sense or no.” He frowned. “Make no mistake, though—for all its haphazard appearance, that ship is deadly. At least a few pieces were stolen from our world’s ships, those that attempted to muster a defense against the foul invaders—and were destroyed utterly.”

  “Oh, we’ve seen the proof of their strength,” Demming agreed, flashing again to the ruin they had discovered before, the one that had started all this. He tried not to think about the bodies they had found within. “We won’t let our guard down.” Remembering, his grip tightened on his mug. No, they would be careful. And they would show these Moringen what happened when they faced a foe that was ready for them.

  ~ * ~

  “They know we’re here,” Pyle reported as Demming returned to the foredeck the following morning. Lizette was off-duty and so the young first officer was at the helm. “Leastways they’ve slowed and pivoted on their axis so they’re staring down our throats.”

  Demming nodded and studied the image onscreen as he sank into his chair. It was an ugly brute of a ship, to be sure, bristling with weapons in every direction like an enraged sea urchin. There was a wrongness to it, a chill down his back, as if the ship’s strange assemblage of parts projected the madness of its owners for all to see. The problem was, madness was unpredictable, and that made them all the more dangerous.

  “Full speed ahead,” he ordered, keeping his tone calm and clear. “They’re not going to run from this fight but neither are we. And if we take it to them before they’re completely ready, we’ll put them at a disadvantage.”

  Pyle nodded and put the throttle down, lowering the lever all the way to the console’s surface. All around them the water shifted and thrummed as the Dread Remora’s engines revved to full, and the bursts of color and motion in their display danced and shimmered and began to shoot toward them as the ship launched itself forward, hurtling toward this strange new foe.

  “What’s happening?” a voice asked through one of the speaking tubes connected to the upper level. It was Leif. Demming had shown him and Merok how to use the tubes the other day, so that they could communicate without having to brave the water.

  “They’ve seen us,” he replied as calmly as he could. “So we’re taking the fight to them.”

  “We’ll separate in our ship,” Leif said after what sounded like a conversation with Merok. “That way we can hit them from the side, distract them, make them split their focus.”

  “Good idea.” Demming stared at the ship on his screen. “But be careful. That thing’s big enough to eat you alive.”

  This time it was Merok who answered. “Don’t worry, we know what they’re capable of. You watch out for yourself and your crew. If all goes well, we’ll toast our victory by noon.”

  “Agreed. Good luck.” Demming switched channels. “Miss Mills, to the foredeck,” he ordered. Pyle was handling the helm fine for now, but when it came time for battle he’d want his best pilot at the wheel. “Miss Cuny and Mister Mirsux, to the gunneries. Mister Twist, to the upper seal to assist in detaching our friends. Everyone else, strap in tight. Things are about to get rough.”

  He followed his own advice and shrugged into the webbed harness of his chair. He was just checking the clasps when the door behind him irised open and Lizette hurried in.

  “I didn’t miss anything, did I?” she asked breathlessly, seemingly unaware of the affect her entrance had on Pyle and Dittmer, who was in his own chair off to the right. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw the ship still a ways away. “Oh, good.” Her face lit in a wicked grin. “I’d hate to have missed all the fun.” Pyle was blushing as he relinquished the helm.

  “Not to worry, Miss Mills,” Demming told her dryly. “The fun couldn’t possibly start without you.” That crack earned him a sultry wink and a throaty laugh, and he had to force his mind back to the matter at hand. “They should be in weapons range soon.” He grabbed the speaking tube again. “Miss Cuny, are you in position?”

  “Aye, captain,” the petite gunner’s mate answered. “So is Mister Mirsux. We’re targeting her now.” He could hear the frown in her voice. “But sir, she’s got so many engines and weapons I don’t know which to hit first! And her armor’s too thick to pierce on one shot. No matter where we strike, she’s going to be able to hit back at least a few times before we can shut her down.”

  He’d suspected as much, but wasn’t happy to be proven right. “Use your own best judgment,” he told her. “The same goes for Mister Mirsux.” The alien assistant gunner’s mate might recognize some of the Moringen’s weaponry and have a better idea which pieces to take out first.

  “Captain, she’s accelerating!” Lizette called from her post. “She’s charging us!”

  Damn, they were using the same tactic he was! Demming ground his teeth. It was going to be head-on collision, and may the stronger ship win! The problem was, he wasn’t completely convinced they had the stronger ship!

  “Stay alert, and watch for incoming fire,” he warned. “Let’s evade what we can, and try to take any hits on the prow or the belly.” Those were their sturdiest sections, and the ones farthest from essential systems.

  “They’re firing!” Pyle shouted. “Three, four—no, five guns at once!”

  What were they doing, Demming mused, leaning forward to study their target. They had to know that, at this range, he could dodge most if not all of those attacks. There was simply too much time between launch and impact for it to make any sense.

  “Three more!” Pyle added. “And another two!” Now they could all see the missiles and beams and bursts leaping and spiraling and arcing toward them.

  “I can’t dodge them all!” Lizette warned, her fingers flicking the wheel and shifting the Remora about to angle her past the first attack. “There’s too many of them, all coming in at once!”

  And that was their plan, Demming realized as the Remora shuddered from the first hit. They’d filled the ether around him with debris, knowing he was bound to crash into some of it. They had the ammunition to spare, and they could soften him up and distract him while they moved in for the kill.

  “Get us out of this minefield!” he ordered, gripping the arms of his chair. “Take us sideways so we have a clear field again! But angle us forward so we’re still closing!”

  “Yes, sir!” She was already spinning the wheel, and the Remora heeled over, her engines kicking her to the side like a startled fish. Another blow or two shook them, but the rest fell harmlessly behind as they dove to one side.

  The Moringen hadn’t bothered with any evasive maneuvers. They were still bearing down on the Remora at a dead run, straight ahead.

  “Miss Cuny, give them something to think about!” Demming commanded, and an instant later the Remora hummed as her own guns pealed, sending a warning note to the approaching marauders. Burst of fire blossomed from the other ship’s side, front, and back as those attacks hit hom, but it did not slow them down, and then they retaliated with another massive onslaught.

  “I can keep us skipping back and forth,” Lizette warned as she twisted the wheel, sliding the Remora between two clouds of what looked like foaming rock shards, “but every time I do I’m leaving us open for a few seconds.

  “And they know it.” Demming slammed his fist down on the chair arm. “They’re making us dance about while they race in, like a shark and a small fish trapped but desperate to escape.” He growled. “Well, this fish has teeth of its own. Miss Cuny, another volley!”

  There was a small sideways lurch as he spoke, and at first he thought she had responded even before he’d finished. Then he spotted the rust-colored wedge arrowing toward the massive Moringen beast. Merok and Leif had launched their ship, and were giving the marauders something else to shoot at them.

  Themselves.

  “Hit them hard, right now!” Demming demanded of his gunner. “Keep them from locking in on our friends!” The smaller ship had far less armor, even with Amelia’s improvements. One barrage like the two they’d already taken and it would be nothing but a smoking cinder.

  Molly Cuny obeyed, and the Moringen ship sprouted wounds in a dozen places. It still found time to launch an attack on its newest target, but Merok and Leif evaded most of those strikes. That was one advantage they had—their ship was so small it was difficult to hit. Then they were past the marauders, and pivoting to fire on it from behind.

  “Now we’ve got you boxed in, you bastards,” Demming whispered, eyeing the screen. “We’ll pound you between us til there’s nothing but ash!”

  They were closer now, and he could make out more details of the Moringen vessel. By the wave it was ugly! Jagged metal plates had been welded on over juncture points, weapons sprouted everywhere, lights like small red eyes glowed from a half-dozen portals—the whole thing resembled a nightmarish cross between a monstrous crab, a bloodthirsty shark, and a spiny deep-sea angler. It was hideous.

  Hideous but effective, he was forced to admit as it shrugged off their latest attack and responded with a wave of violence that threatened to blot out the ether.

  “I don’t know how much more of this we can take,” Lizette told him, wrestling with the wheel as she tried to slip past the worst of the blows. “If we don’t find a way to deal with them and soon, they’ll get through our armor and pierce our hull.”

  And then we’re done for, Demming finished for her in his head. He nodded.

  “Mister Mirsux,” he called into the speaking tubes. The squid-like alien answered a second later. “Prepare to deploy the Siren Knife. Mister Pyle, I want you up there—you have the wheel until we can reunite.”

  His first officer just stared at him for a second. Then he saluted, shouted “Yes, sir!” and raced from the foredeck. Demming could hear the younger man’s footsteps pounding down the gangway, and then a distant clang as he closed the seal that had joined the upper and lower halves of the ship. A second later, with a groan and a creak and a shudder, the Dread Remora split in two. The top half, which had been the pirate ship the Siren Knife before they’d defeated it, slid away and began to target the Moringen on its own. Meanwhile Lizette maneuvered the suddenly lighter Remora through another barrage, and shot them toward the marauders with renewed speed.

  They were forcing their foe to split its attack, Demming knew. That should help.

  He just wasn’t sure it would be enough.

  ~ * ~

  “I don’t think they’ll last much longer,” Leif muttered, watching the displays in their tiny vessel. They could see the two halves of the Dread Remora turning to engage the Moringen from either side. “They’re clever, and tough, but against these demons they’re no match.”

  “Aye, I thought the same,” Merok agreed from the chair beside him. After a few days on the much more spacious Remora, it felt strange to be back in these confined quarters again. Strange but comfortable. Like going home.

  “We can’t let them die,” Leif insisted. “They’re good people, doing good deeds. True comrades at arms.”

  “We’re not going to let them die,” Merok assured him. His face was grim. “They’re putting forth a valiant effort, but this isn’t their fight. It’s ours. Ours is the loss. Ours is the responsibility. And ours will be the solution.”

  Leif met his gaze. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then they both nodded. After fighting side-by-side for so long, words weren’t necessary. They both knew what they had to do.

  As one, they turned back to their consoles and began inputting commands. And their little ship responded, darting toward the massive Moringen from behind like a dagger in the night.

  They just hoped this dagger would be able to fell a giant.

  ~ * ~

  “They’re on the move!” Lizette announced.

  Demming frowned at the display. Their foe had not moved except to close the distance still more. “How so?”

  “Not them! Merok and Leif!” She waved one hand at the screen, and Demming stared—then started as the display zoomed in to show him exactly where their friends had taken their tiny ship.

  “They’re heading right for it!” He leaned forward. “It’ll swallow them whole!”

  Sure enough, as he watched a panel in the Moringen ship seemed to slide open near his friends’ much smaller vessel. It took him a second to notice the puffs of smoke along the panel’s edges. It hadn’t been opened from within—Merok and Leif had shot it open! And now they were driving their wedge-shaped ship directly into that makeshift entrance. Within seconds they had vanished into the belly of the beast.

  “I hope they know what they’re doing,” Demming muttered. But he had a sinking feeling they knew exactly what they were up to, and so did he.

  ~ * ~

  “We did it! We’re inside!” Leif slapped Merok on the back, then quickly drew his hand back to his console. “Scanning now!”

  “There!” Merok stabbed a finger at his display, which showed the developing scan of the demonship’s interior. A section slightly above and ahead of them strobed on the screen. “That’s got to be their central core!”

  “We can shoot our way through the decks,” Leif pointed out, fingers already on the weapons controls. “We’ll be there in a few seconds.”

  “I’ve readied the engine.” Merok tapped in one last command. Then he drew his sword. There was no room to swing it in these tight quarters, but it still felt right to have it in his grip now. Leif drew his as well.

  “Onward!” They shouted together as their ship cut its way deeper into the Moringen behemoth. A moment later, the glowing ship’s core appeared before them. They wasted no time in steering right toward it.

  “It has been an honor, my friend,” Leif said, offering his right hand to Merok.

  “For me as well,” Merok replied, returning the clasp. Then he grinned at the monitor, and at the tiny, monstrous figures they could just make out scurrying away from the core in a panic.

  “The Order of the Starry Blade sends its greetings,” he whispered even as their ship’s prow slammed into the core and shattered it, sending arcs of energy rippling through the bigger vessel’s interior. “We have not forgotten. And we have not given up. Take that message back to your hell when you go, and know that we will follow you even there.”

  Then he stabbed his finger down on the console, and their ship’s engine overloaded, setting off a cascade effect with the ruptured core before it.

  The last thing Merok saw was the light shimmering along his sword. It was beautiful.

  ~ * ~

  “Energy readings are off the scale!” Dittmer announced from his post. “It’s out of control!”

  “Pull back!” Demming ordered. “Back away now!” He opened a channel to the Siren Knife. “Pyle, get out of there!”

  Hearing the alarm in his voice, Lizette tightened her grip on the helm and began spinning it, turning them about.

  Then the Moringen exploded.

  The shock waves tossed them aside like a seashell caught in a tidal wave. Lizette struggled with the wheel and managed to complete the maneuver she’d begun so that the Remora was racing ahead of the blast, riding its swell and staying afloat as a result. But only barely.

  A quick scan of the monitors showed the Siren Knife running as well. It was less graceful, and was being buffeted about a good deal more, but it was also more heavily armored and could withstand the pummeling more easily.

  After a minute the worst of the detonation had blown past them, and Lizette was able to bring the Remora about and to a halt. The Siren Knife skipped its way to them a moment or two later, and Lizette maneuvered them so the Remora’s rear portal was lined up with the Siren Knife’s front. A familiar ripple of energy surged through the hull as the two ships locked together, and the Dread Remora was whole once more.

  “Everyone all right up there?” Demming asked through speaking tube once the ships were connected again.

  “Fine, sir,” Pyle replied at once. “A little bounced about, but otherwise good. What about down there?”

  “I think we’re more or less in one piece,” Demming acknowledged. “Thanks to our friends’ noble sacrifice.” He directed Lizette to bring them back to where the explosion had begun, but he knew there would be little to find there. It had literally torn the Moringen ship apart from the inside out. Only a few jagged lumps of metal remained, drifting in the ether and cluttering its color-splashed black expanse.

 

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