Warning sirens blared across the Auric Wind as explosions rocked the ship to its core. Controlled chaos reigned as torchbearer crewmen raced to battle stations. What had once felt like a cruise ship rapidly transformed into a masterclass performance in rehearsed crisis response. Voy and Elara ran together through a marble corridor bathed in red emergency light, Hembrandt’s orders relayed over low-net to their helms.

  “Four impacts, boarding craft. Two in the engine housings, two on either side. Response teams are on route to each, I need you two to keep them from disabling our engines,” there was no telling what awaited at the impacts, but two kartorim should be able to handle anything thrown at them. What worried Voy was the other two impacts. It reeked of diversionary thinking, split response teams across the ship while a primary objective went completed unseen. Voy could only guess at which insertions were diversions and which were mission critical. Perhaps he was giving them too much credit, he didn’t even know who or what had attacked them yet.

  They two ran through the tree atrium, passing a group of armed soldiers in EVA armor heading the same direction. Voy sped up his run, he had to beat them to the engines. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if any came to harm because he was to slow repelling the invaders before they arrived. Marble blast doors slid aside at the kartorim duo’s approach, barely open in time for them to zip through without clipping the edges of the door frames.

  “You ever fight another kartorim before?” Elara asked out loud as they ran. In any other circumstance Voy would have stopped to process the question. Urgency kept him moving while he turned the question over in his head. He had, technically, but he wasn’t sure if it counted for the purposes of her question.

  “Why do you ask?” he replied between breaths.

  “Because we’re about to in a moment, just curious if you had any experience with it,” she replied nonchalantly. Were doing what!? Voy skid to a stop, carapace boots leaving scrape lines in the floor beneath him.

  “What do you mean we’re fighting kartorim? Why would we be boarded by kartorim if we’re on a mission from Avaron?” Voy’s heart raced now, adrenaline that had been denied thus far now surged forth and made him twitchy. Elara stopped just in front of him and turned to face him. For the first time he got a good look at her with her helm on, and the list of questions set to the back burner grew unbidden.

  She had crown aerials. Two large, twisting spike-like formations on her helm forming out of her brow and flowing backward and up over her head. They were the same warm bronzey-gold as the rest of her carapace trim, but the unofficial badge of office for elder kartorim was unmistakable. Voy drew his sword from over his back and held it out in front of him. She didn’t speak, her cyan helm eyes focused squarely on the black sword Voy placed between them.

  “So you are just another one of them, aren’t you?” Elara narrowed her eyes, her tone both bitter and deflated. Voy stepped back once and shook his head.

  “I don’t even know what ‘them’ you’re talking about, you need to explain. Who is attacking us, and why do I get the feeling it has something to do with you?” Elara just shook her head and looked down at the floor.

  “A lot of people want to stop the torchbearers from getting to Filigree. They don’t understand why we have to act. They don’t understand, or they’re evil I guess. I don’t know. But they have kartorim a lot of the time. Just be ready, whoever they send typically shoots first before asking questions,” Elara started running again, not waiting for Voy to follow.

  “Wait,” Voy called after her, falling into a run of his own, “I can talk to them, there must be some kind of mistake. We’re on orders from Avaron!” Elara was running at her own pace now, gradually leaving Voy behind.

  “Feel free to tell them that, see where it lands you,” she shouted back before rounding a corner and leaving Voy’s sight. What the hell is her deal? Footsteps clambered from behind as the soldiers from earlier nearly caught up. Voy strained to pick up his pace. The engine rooms were close.

  Rounding the same corner Elara had, Voy found himself before the blast door leading to the engine housing. It was bent and pushed open by debris, the misshapen door sparked in a futile effort to close. Air rushed out of the corridor and in through the smashed door, a sign than the ship’s atmosphere was either leaking from the explosive breach of the hull or that self repair had only just finished and things were still equalizing.

  In any case it wasn’t good. Elara was nowhere to be seen. Vibrosword in had, Voy sprang through the door into the dimly lit engine housing. Light from the corridor was the only electric illumination, firelight from burning wreckage and components on the murals of machinery in the engine section lit the rest. Decoration was reserved for other areas of the Auric, but Voy guessed that this was at least orderly before the attack.

  Metal scrap and debris littered the floors and walls, and the black void of vacspace was clearly visible through a massive wound in the ship’s rear. Sealing foam was expanding to close the gap, but it had quite a bit of space to cover. Two boarding ships were lodged into mounds of sensitive technology. Neither settled straight on and Voy saw that both doors behind their shields sat open.

  Gunfire met him the moment he passed through the doorway, even in dim firelight Voy recognized thurgian jolters instantly. He dashed aside, using a block of machinery for cover. The boarders were human, thurgian state military no less. It made no sense.

  “This vessel is under direct orders from the High Marshall, stand down!” His voice didn’t carry, between the din of still running engines and the nonexistent atmosphere his words may as well have been whispered. Naval slug-shot cracked against his improvised cover. Voy would need to subdue them, but there was a problem.

  Hostile animals and fanatic aliens were fine, that he trained for and accepted as his duty to slay… but not once in his life had Voy ever taken a human life. It was anathema to his purpose for being. How could a defender of humanity betray that purpose by turning his blade and strength upon them? How much more so if those people were soldiers fighting for Thurgia, for the High Marshall, just as he was?

  Voy locked his vibrosword to his back. He would have to subdue them, but he would not kill them. He 'listened' through the metal, felt the vibration of footsteps and heartbeats betraying the presence of their owners. The roar of the mighty engines nearby were a consistent thing, he could drown it out and pick out the subtle thrum of the breachers’ powered armor, so long as he feet were touching the ground.

  Forty six, give or take a few. They were forming up to encircle him, some climbing up onto fuel tubes and service gantries to get elevation over him. In a few seconds they’d have their first sight line on him. Adrenaline flowed into his veins, time slowed. Voy would not give them that long.

  With speed faster than even jolters could follow, Voy leapt out from behind cover and darted for the nearest enemy, crashing into him with his shoulder. The impact shook the man inside his suit and knocked him off his feet, misty gassed hissed from the cracks in his chest piece.

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  Before he hit the ground Voy snatched his weapon, a heavy slug shotgun designed for boarding action, and raised it up with his left hand. Jolters positioned on gantries overlooking him hadn’t finished aiming their weapons down on him before Voy unleashed the ammo that remained in his commandeered weapon upon the bolts holding up the skeletal platform. It only took one shot connecting to send the gantry tumbling down, the weight of the jolters on top far more than it was rated for.

  When his gun ran dry, Voy swung it like a baton against the next nearest jolter. It bent around his helmet, cracking the transparent faceplate in a cloud of sparks and whooshing stimulant fog. The jolter collapsed to the ground. A backhand strike with the same mangled gun sent another jolter rushing to the floor. Gunshots raced through the air and rapped against his plate as the jolters adjusted their approach.

  Voy dove behind a support column and rolled to hit feet behind it. Again he assessed their locations based on the tells they could not control, feeling as they adapted and fell back into firing lines. By now Voy had rotated them around such that they had their backs to the door he came in through. Voy knelt down and picked up a bent piece of broken piping from the floor and tossed it around in his hand, getting a feel for it’s weight. He looked to his right and found another structural column to end up by.

  With a sharp inhale Voy leapt out from behind cover again, rearing back his arm and throwing the pipe like a spear at one of the jolters. It cut through the air and into the jolter’s shoulder, dragging him down to the ground with it’s weight. The jolters responded with a fresh torrent of gunfire, but Voy landed behind the next column safely. The sealant foam finished its work before him and sealed the engine room off from vacspace. It was a brittle barrier, but so long as nothing struck it it would keep the ship insulated. Gradually the rush of wind relaxed as the room refilled with air. New tells made themselves known with the sound’s return.

  Chiefly, the clamor of the torchbearer soldiers arriving just behind the jolters, their approach made quiet until the last moment. They poured in and engaged in immediate, bloody battle with their thurgian counterparts. Voy stepped out hands raised to try and break up the melee. His efforts went unrealized as a massive force struck him from behind, a kick he guessed, launching him sideways and crashing into a pile of wreckage.

  “Just who in the hell do you think you are tough guy?” heavy steps approached from behind, and a twang Voy recognized immediately accompanied them. Voy turned around in the wreckage and fought to his feet. His head was still spinning from the blow. Striding up to him was none other than Fenrothyne, his hulking form fully encased in the bone-white and copper colors of House Bolund.

  His right hand held a cudgel of a vibrosword, it was large and finely made but edged only on one side and almost blunt at the tip. A weapon leveraging brute strength over versatility. In spite of the attack Voy felt relief seeing a member of his cohort here. He knew him! That meant he could reason with him and get the attack called off, surely. Voy raised his hands again, and retracted his helm.

  “Fenrothyne you’ve got to call off the attack, its me Voy!” desperation didn’t stop him from smiling, gosh it was good to see a familiar face. Fenrothyne stopped and cocked his head to the side.

  “Voy? Voy Shatterborne?” he chuckled drily, “What in the blazes are you doing on this ship full of traitors?” Voy’s heart sunk. Had he been wrong about Hembrandt? That couldn’t be. He had official orders, in Avaron’s handwriting no less.

  “I’m on assignment from Avaron. The whole ship is, you’ve got to call this off!” Voy stepped closer, as did Fenrothyne. He towered over him now, every bit of ten feet tall. It seemed incredible to think Voy stood over him at one point. Fenrothyne got a wicked glimmer is his helm’s blue eyes.

  “Everyone thinks you’re dead bud,” before Voy could think to react, Fenrothyne whipped his sword around and lodged its blade edge into Voy’s torso, just below his rib-cage. Voy choked, his hands reached instinctively to halt Fenrothyne’s arm and prevent him from driving the blade deeper. Fenrothyne leaned down, until his faceplate was nearly touching Voy’s nose. “Why disappoint ‘em?”

  Voy pushed with all his might against the titan’s sword arm, freeing the blade from his side in a spray of blood. His helm slammed closed over his head as he stumbled backward, his wound clotted almost immediately. Fenrothyne laughed and whirled his sword around.

  Voy didn’t have time to think about trying for words again. Big brutish legs carried his cudgel wielding foe to him faster than any moegon had ever rushed him. His training on Anitora was all he had to go on. Drawing his own sword from his back, Voy raised it just in time to intercept one of Fenrothyne’s blows. The force rocked him backward and popped his shoulders. Searing pain crept over him from his wound and his muscle straining to hold up against the strength of his foe’s attack.

  Voy strained to twist his opponent’s attack around him, letting Fenrothyne carry his own attack over and past Voy. With Fenrothyne’s blade further out than Voy, the pseudo-kartorim leapt at the giant, kicked off of the top of his carapace’s knee cap, and delivered a punch squarely into his jaw. Fenrothyne grunted and stumbled back while Voy landed down on his feet and raised his black vibrosword again.

  “Oowee, big red’s favorite little failure still got some fight!” Fenrothyne growled, “I wonder how much of that sorry excuse for a carapace I’ll have to peel off ‘fore that changes!” The House Bolund kartorim sounded almost as giddy as he was mad about being hit. With a brush of his hand any indication he’d been hit was wiped from his faceplate. A fair fight would see Voy dead in minutes. He needed options.

  Fenrothyne extended his shield on his left arm and raised his sword for another swing. Voy dodged to the side in anticipation of its path, the sword narrowly missing him, and over to one of the incapacitated jolters. With his foot he kicked up his gun and caught it in one hand, letting his sword touch the ground in his other. Fenrothyne growled with ire at missing his strike, his sword lodging itself in the floor.

  Metal grate bent around his blade, sparking against it as the sword vibrated itself free. Beneath the grates was a gap a few feet deep, a service crawlspace for buried cables and components. Jerking his sword free, Fenrothyne stepped off toward Voy. He knocked aside a jolter that stepped in his way with his shield, sending the jolter flying with a bone crunching smack.

  Fenrothyne broke into a sprint and slammed his sword down in Voy’s direction. Just before it would have cleaved down and bisected him Voy raised his borrowed gun and shot it twice at Fenrothyne’s eyes, sending his aim off course and once again leaving the brute yanking his blade out of the ground. Now was his chance. Voy dropped his gun and used his free hand to lift up a section of the grate, jumping down beneath and into the crawlspace below. Ripping another narrow pipe free from the floor in a spray of coolant. Voy took his improvised meter long spear and slid directly under Fenrothyne and rammed the pipe straight up and through Fenrothyne’s foot.

  His arms burned and his nose trickled blood beneath his helm from the effort. Before Fenrothyne could yank himself free, Voy smacked the pipe and bent it before pressing his hands up against the grate and throwing the brute above him onto his back. Fenrothyne howled with rage as he crashed onto the floor behind him. Voy repeated the same as before, ripping free a new pipe and ramming it up through the grate, this time through the lower back. Again his body protested the effort, but he pushed through. Another smack and a second pipe had been fortified against easy removal.

  “I’m gonna rip you apart for this you smarmy little shit!” Fenrothyne threatened as he tried to wriggle free, but the pipes bent more as he thrashed making them harder to pull straight out. Voy leapt back up from where he’d gone below and re-acquired his gun. Charging electricity thrummed and crackled over the air near Fenrothyne, the brute extended his energy lance and was lining up a shot on Voy.

  Grinding his teeth, Voy mustered a burst of adrenaline fueled rage and ran toward the charging weapon. He fired his remaining rounds at Fenrothyne’s face until the gun clicked empty, then threw the gun itself at Fenrothyne. Anything to keep him from firing yet. A moment before he released the charge he’d been holding, Voy was upon him, he rammed his shoulder down and under the House Bolund kartorim’s arm and pushed with all the force he could muster against it, changing his aim.

  “Why you-” Voy cut him off by driving his left heel into his face, using it to further pivot Fenrothyne’s lance arm around until it was at last aiming for what Voy wanted him to shoot. Fenrothyne’s left hand reached around and delivered a crushing strike to Voy’s ankle. The titan hit again and again, cracking bone and puling tissue. Voy ground his teeth and weathered the pain. He had what he needed. Voy reared back and delivered a headbutt to Fenrothyne’s lance arm, once, twice, and a third time before the mechanism within that kept the charged plasma from firing failed.

  A searing bolt of white hot lance fire sailed out and collided with the fresh wall of sealant foam, melting and shattering it anew. The hurricane of escaping atmosphere drew debris and casualties into the mountains of exhaust fire poured out by the Auric’s engines outside. Voy and Fenrothyne began to slide, then float as the breach pulled them out. Voy let go of Fenrothyne’s arm and swung his sword down to the ground, using one of its hook like ends to catch the ground and hold himself from being thrust outside.

  Fenrothyne was already airborne, grates still nailed to him by sections of mangled piping, when he realized what was happening. He swung his arms in a futile attempt to grab something, anything, to prevent flying out into the void beyond. His cries faded into silence as he was sucked out of the breach and into the hellish void outside.

  Voy fell down to the floor as the last of the fleeing atmosphere was pulled away. Sealing foam began to coagulate again on the new breach. Torchbearer marines were finishing up the last of the jolters, taking prisoners where they could. Voy rose up to his knee and rested a moment, assessing himself to see if his ankle was safe to stand on. His helm eyes he kept closed. No part of him wanted to know is he’d just taken a kartorim life. Seconds that felt like hours crawled by before he at last opened them. He saw the gentle blue glow against the floor and relief washed over him. Fenrothyne was, for now at least, alive.

  Shakily rising to his feet, Voy cautiously limped to the door, passing by the torchbearer soldiers on the way into the corridor. As exhaustion began to tempt him into dropping his guard, a call rang out over the low-net for him. It was Hembrandt.

  “Voy, the enemy is making a push for the command index. I need you there right now or all may be lost. I have teams en route but they won’t be enough – there is an enemy kartorim making a blender out of the halls.” Voy sighed and picked up his pace. Why oh why was a mission by Avaron’s order being attacked by troops loyal only to him? It made no sense. If they survived this, the admiral would be answering every question Voy had. He would allow no alternative.