He hands her several disk objects.
She places them on Joe’s chest. “Activate system transfer.” Blue energy beams lift Joe from the bed and tractor him to the circular platforms. The force field suspends his limp body in the air. She stretches to reach, placing a clamp over his nostrils, clipping them shut. “Lower,” she orders. A clear tube juts out of the ceiling and traps Joe.
JC nudges him left then right to keep his floating body in the center of the tube as the cylinder lowers. It reaches the bottom, twists and locks into place. The tank fills with orange liquid.
“Why plug his nose if you don’t put in breathing tubes?”
“I don’t know. It’s just what the manual said to do,” she snaps.
The force field dissipates as Joe floats in the orange solution.
“The bacterium in the fluid should rejuvenate his body.”
“How long before you know?” Reynard asks.
“I know nothing about this technology.” JC holds the medical scanner next to Amye. “These readings are all jumbled.”
Amye grabs Reynard’s wrist. “William, it was Ki-Ton. He took Michelle.”
Reynard slaps his watch. “Athena, have any ships left Taygete III orbit in the past ten minutes?”
“Three, Commander.”
“What are they?”
“One UCP Academy Transport, a supply frigate and the Blackweb Hypershuttle Morph.”
“Reynard, don’t do it.” JC reaches for his arm.
“Transport me to the Hypershuttle.”
JC shields her eyes as Reynard disappears.
REYNARD FLASHES INTO existence onboard the Morph. He flexes his hand, gunslinger style. Before the captain’s chair spins around, he knows he’s in Ki-Ton’s presence. A bloody, beaten Michelle sleeps in the corner. His lip flinches as his eyes hollow out. “I’ll kill you this time.”
“You’ve encountered more Sandmen.”
Before Reynard levels his magnum to fire, Ki-Ton grabs for it with elongated arms.
“I’ve restored my abilities. You have no idea the power I now possess. You’ve wronged me for the last time.”
The gun sails into a lock box. Ki-Ton seals it. “I want this to be slow.”
Reynard closes his right fingers as if gripping a sword. The blade appears in his hand.
“You gained a new talent.” Ki-Ton’s arm grows tortoiseshell armor covered in spikes with each finger hooking into a claw.
No talking this time. The blade slashes through the end of the bone spikes. The tips flop on the floor, melting into a goop much like a synthoid, only when Ki-Ton steps on the puddles they reform back into a part of him.
Ki-Ton thrusts his claws.
Reynard severs them as well.
“I’ll cut pieces off you all day.”
“Your weapon?”
“Destroyer of Sandmen.”
Ki-Ton bum-rushes Reynard. He stumbles backward in the miniature living area of the shuttle. The wall dents Reynard’s back. The pain courses through his spine and radiates into his arms, forcing him to loosen his grip and cause the sword to disappear.
“It’s not the defeating weapon you seek. The blade, like the orb, will draw the Sandmen to you.” Ki-Ton’s warning echoes around him.
Reynard struggles against the solid matter only to find that it contorts like Jell-O, drawing his body inside. Ki-Ton’s liquefied self covers Reynard, cutting off oxygen. Reynard struggles to find air in the syrupy mess. No warrior training prepared him to face off against the blob.
What would Steve McQueen do?
Not the stupid option presenting itself. Reynard twists his hand backward and grips his sword. It pops into existence with the end of the blade inside the door release controls.
Sparks rain from the shorting panel.
The air rushes into the vacuum of space, siphoning out Ki-Ton’s gelatinous form before he mutates back into a solid. Depressurization yanks Michelle from the floor. Reynard catches her with his left arm while holding to the doorframe with the right. As his fingers slip, he inches closer to the lifeless vacuum of space.
The emergency magnetic field activates. Atmosphere pumps into the now-secure shuttle.
The magnetic field designed to keep atmosphere in doesn’t prevent Ki-Ton from reaching inside, snatching Reynard and flinging him into space.
Cold surrounds him.
A transporter beam snags the shuttle and, in the instant before it engulfs Reynard, he watches a plasma bolt incinerate the transforming Ki-Ton.
Reynard rolls onto his back. Through reddening eyes, he stares at the double helix pattern of the transporter.
“I never thought CO2 scrubbers would make the air taste so good.”
JC kneels beside him.
Reynard’s stomach hiccups as he knows the Dragon slipped into hyperspace.
“We are nowhere near complete on our repairs.”
“The new Outer Dimensional Coordinator wanted to question you. Australia thought it best you got the hell out of Dodge,” JC says.
“I don’t recall using that idiom.”
“He’s fine. Go attend to Michelle in the shuttle,” Scott orders.
“You transported the entire shuttle?” Reynard pushes up on his elbows.
“It stressed the power and the transporter circuits, but with the magnetic field activated I had to in order to save the princess and prevent Ki-Ton’s escape. Amye blasted him, you know.”
“He was transforming,” Reynard says.
“Not away from one of our main guns.” Scott pulls Reynard to his feet.
“I need to check on Michelle.” It takes him a minute before he limps to the door. “What do you recommend we do now? We’ve got a lot of ship left unrepaired.”
“Test this cadet’s shuttle. We didn’t wait for clearance to exit the Riftgate. Puts us on the hot list. I’ll refit with the synthoids we have. After her flight, we dock at a spaceport where we load what we need to complete the repairs, and we buy some Mecats,” Scott suggests.
“Gives me more time in the simulator. And Ki-Ton locked up my gun in the shuttle.”
FIVE DIRTY AND filthy unwashed ragamuffin humanoids line up in a poor excuse for attention. Malnourished and destitute, the aliens raise up with slumped shoulders at the approach of Admiral Kantian.
“You’ve all been driven from your home planets and are lost among the refugees.” Kantian reviews the information on a computer pad handed to him by
