“We know.” Another woman, and this one Maya recognized. Sarah. “That’s why we’re taking it.”
“I’m going out,” Maya hissed. “Remember, just let me speak to them.”
“Until someone makes a move,” Tanax muttered, one hand on his haken. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Maya was already kicking the back door open. She waited for a moment to see if the motion would draw a shot, and when it didn’t she hopped down.
“I’m coming around the wagon,” she said aloud. “I’d like to talk.”
The first woman spoke again. “Move slowly.”
“There are two of us,” Maya said. She edged out to the side of the wagon, her hand on her haken.
They were in a long, wide tunnel. There were no buildings here, just the road. Ahead, it curved, so there was no sign of the tunnel exit, but the glowing arch of the entrance was visible a hundred meters behind them.
The two loadbirds were dead, sprawled in their harness, crossbow bolts jutting from their sides. The driver, a young man in an Auxie uniform, sat on the box with his hands raised, showing no inclination to go for the weapon at his side.
Beyond the wagon, spread in a rough semicircle, were a dozen men and women. They wore scavenged armor, bits of steel and fragments of unmetal over leather. Most carried crossbows, though Maya saw at least a couple of blaster pistols, and some wore swords or short spears. Sarah was in the first line, a blaster pistol in one hand, looking bulky under mismatched unmetal plate armor. Beside her was a tall, slim woman with long metallic-gold hair and an unmetal spear.
Maya hurried forward and saw Sarah’s eyes widen in recognition. Crossbows and blasters tracked her as she came forward, and the tall woman retreated a step, but Sarah held her ground. Maya’s voice was low and urgent.
“Please. Don’t do anything rash. I need to talk to you.”
“He’s got a haken!” one of the men said from behind her. “They’re plaguing centarchs!”
Weapons were raised all around.
“Everyone, please stay calm!” Maya said. “Tanax, you too!”
“You didn’t tell me everything,” Sarah murmured. She looked up at the tall woman, who kept her eyes on Maya.
“What is going on here?” the woman said. “Sarah, you know these two?”
“Just this one,” Sarah said. “I figured her for an Order scout. Apparently I wasn’t thinking big enough.”
“And were you planning on informing the rest of us?” the woman said, her hand tightening on her spear.
“My name is Maya,” Maya said.
“And this is Yora,” Sarah said. “She’s in charge.”
“Please listen,” Maya said. “We don’t have long. Nobody has to get killed here.”
“Not if you get out of the way,” Yora said. “Centarch or not, we’re taking the Core Analytica.”
“The Analytica’s not here,” Maya said urgently. “This is a trap. Raskos wants Tanax and me to bring you in.”
Yora’s face hardened, and Sarah paled.
“I knew something was wrong,” Sarah said. “Halfmask—”
“Quiet,” Yora said.
“Maya!” Tanax said, a dangerous edge in his voice. “What’s going on?”
“We’re discussing the terms of surrender,” Maya said, loud enough for him to hear.
“We’re doing nothing of the kind,” Yora said.
“Please,” Maya said. “Listen to me. Sarah said your grievance is with Raskos, and this is your chance to prove it. I can guarantee your fair treatment. We’ll send to the Forge for a centarch to investigate. You can present your evidence.”
“The Order has had a decade to curb Raskos’ excesses,” Yora said. “If they cared, they would have done something before now.”
“The Order doesn’t know.” There had to be more to it than that, but Maya was running on instinct and didn’t want to complicate the case. “I swear that I will do everything I can to see that justice is done here.”
“Maya!” Tanax said again.
“Just shut up,” Maya shouted back. “Sarah, Yora, please.”
“Halfmask wouldn’t trust her,” Sarah said slowly.
“I told you to shut up about him,” Yora said.
“I was going to say I think he’d be wrong.” Sarah took a deep breath. “This might work.”
“I …” Yora’s eyes flicked from Maya to Tanax, then to the wagon and back again. For a moment, Maya saw mistrust and hope warring behind her eyes. “I’m not …”
Sarah went stiff, looking over Maya’s shoulder, then screamed a warning.
“Down!”
The crack of a blaster bolt, in the empty space of the tunnel, was like a bolt of lightning at close range. The shot impacted with a flash bright enough to dazzle and a wash of heat. It caught Sarah high in the chest, punching her off her feet and sending her sprawling to the tunnel floor, bits of white-hot metal spalling away from her makeshift armor.
“You fucking traitorous plaguepit,” Yora snarled, barely audible over the ringing in Maya’s ears. She raised her spear as a half dozen crossbows went off at once.
No. Maya felt like she was watching herself from a distance. Her panoply stopped two bolts, sending a wave of cold through her, and she drew her haken. The blade ignited, the flood of deiat sending familiar pinpricks of energy spreading across her body. Yora was already slashing at her, and Maya parried high, her flaming sword spitting and crackling against the unmetal spear. Before Yora could disengage, Maya kicked her in the stomach, sending her stumbling backward even as the rest of the rebels pressed in.
One older man in the rear had a blaster, and he raised it and fired. Maya interposed her blade, and the bolt of coherent energy twisted into the flaming weapon as though drawn by a magnet, impacting in a shower of sparks. The old rebel looked startled, but his companions had already tossed aside their crossbows and drawn their swords.
No, no, no!
But it was too late.
The first man to reach her feinted high, then thrust low. Maya saw it in time to parry, and his ordinary steel parted easily where it met deiat, leaving him holding a stump. He backed away, gaping comically, and Maya spun to one side and chopped the head off a spear as it thrust at her. The first man dug in his pocket and produced a small clay bomb, which he hurled at her just as a third rebel bore in with a knife in each hand.
Maya pulled a thread of deiat, sending a narrow bolt of flame to incinerate the alchemical. It burst with a whoomph, sending several men toppling. The knife-wielding rebel, a teenage girl, ignored it and came in fast. Maya was hard-pressed to parry, blocking one stroke while the other scored against her panoply. The knives were unmetal, too, holding their own against her haken. Maya took one step back, then another, as the girl pressed in, her face twisted with hatred.
Stop. Please.
“You fucking Order bastard—”
The girl drove in with both knives. Maya hopped back to buy a moment, raised one hand, and incinerated her.
The rebel’s curse became a scream of agony as deiat roared around her, the concentrated essence of the sun engulfing her in a pillar of fire. Her voice cut off mercifully quickly, and her blackened body toppled, shattering into a drift of ash when it hit the floor.