Aura Overload

3 – Babysitting

The ship was already throwing a long shadow over the training grounds when Hector stepped outside the gym. It wasn’t the biggest lander he’d ever seen—not even close—but it was still impressive, especially after going so long seeing nothing but drones in the air. The thing looked like a building-sized metallic egg, turrets and hangar bays disrupting its gray smoothness in regular placements.

At the center of its clustered drive cones, the grav-drive pulsed with a dull red glow, distorting the air and making the whole ship look wavy, like a desert mirage, as it descended toward the far edge of the field, where impact craters from live-fire drills already marred the turf.

“Angels,” Mathews whispered, watching the lander settle onto the charred synthetic grass.

“I can feel it,” another voice said, and Hector turned to see the rest of the team crowding the doorway. It was the geologist, Paige, pressing a hand to her stomach as her pale flesh took on an unmistakable shade of green.

Perry, the big muscle-head, groaned. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Keep your breakfast in your stomach, Perry,” Mathews growled. “It’s just the grav-drive. They’ll spool it down in a second.”

As if on cue, the deep, almost inaudible rhythmic thrum subsided. The distortion in the air around the massive ship faded, and the ground shuddered a final time as the vessel settled onto its enormous landing struts.

“Who’s in there, Commander?” Kristina asked, pushing between Perry and the other security officer, Red­—Evie helpfully put floating nametags for the team members on Hector’s AUI.

“That’s the million-bit question, kid.” Mathews frowned, glancing at Hector, as if he’d implicated himself by recognizing the feel of the grav-drive. She subtly shook her head, though, turning back to the big ship. “Some rich Royal, probably. Maybe a tag-along for the next Imperial rift raid, but that’s not for five damn weeks. If those sons of bitches try to bump me again—”

“Ah, hell. Come on, Commander! I’ve got bills coming due. I can’t wait another damn month!” Perry thumped his fist against the door frame as he spoke, earning an especially deep frown from Mathews.

“Keep your shorts on. I’ll go see what’s—” Mathews’ words died on her tongue as the lander’s hull split near the base, revealing the main cargo bay as a ramp extended toward the ground. “Maybe we’ll get a clue. Let’s see who comes down that ramp.”

The ship had to be half a klick distant, so Hector dialed up the gain on his optics to see the people standing at the top of the ramp clearly. He felt the rest of the team crowding past him—moving closer, spilling out of the doorway—but he ignored them. His gaze was fixed on the party gathered there, waiting for the ramp to finish extending. They were the first Royals he’d seen since waking up.

He immediately clocked the security team—three IG in Imperial uniforms. One of them, SMG low on its sling, rode the ramp down, scanning the field. Two more stood behind their charges—a young man and an older woman—looking alert, though they weren’t really needed. The real protector, the real threat to anyone who put those Royals in danger, was the man with the flickering orange aura.

He wasn’t firing an ability; he wasn’t even trying to put on a show, though he could have reined that aura in. No—he was just existing, and the aura was bleeding out of him, outlining his body in a glow that said, with no chance of misinterpretation, “Don’t fuck with me.”

Hector’s aura used to do that—used to burn bright enough to paint him in crimson light, like a walking torch. Now it only flared when he pushed it.

The man on the ramp wasn’t holding back. The aura bled off him in steady waves, controlled but constant. It was strong, but not overwhelming. Hector felt the faint tug against his own core and filed it away.

Not a Praetorian. If a Praetorian stood on that ramp, it would feel like standing at the edge of a rift—the pull would be sharp, hungry, almost enough to turn your stomach.

“Look at that fancy boy. Doesn’t he know he can clamp down on that aura?” Kristina snorted, shaking her head.

Hector looked at her, fox ears twitching as she stared at the distant party. “When you’re running security, sometimes a show of force saves trouble.”

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. The biologist, Bobby, opened his mouth, but Mathews cut him off: “I’m gonna go see what the hell is going on. I swear, if they try to bump us…” She trailed off, muttering under her breath as she stomped toward the admin building. Hector refocused on the Royals.

The woman had silver hair, and she seemed a little stooped in her posture, but her face was youthful—the classic result of beauty treatments as one waited for their next round of rejuvenation. The kid looked like a real kid to Hector. He stared around with unabashed wonder, taking in the red rolling hills beyond the compound as his security team secured the field.

More than the expression on his youthful face, his uniform gave him away. It was a military dress uniform, and it was tailored to perfection, but his shirt was sloppily tucked in. One pant leg was bunched up around his polished boot, while the other was smoothed down. It was the kind of lazy regard for the tradition of the uniform that Hector would expect from a kid—a real one.

“Cute,” Kristina said, also peering toward the lander.

Paige stepped forward. “Is he? My field lenses can’t focus that far out.”

“Give it a rest.” Perry snorted, thumping his fist into his palm. “I’m gonna hit the showers.” With that, he threw the gym door open and lumbered inside.

Red drawled, “Somebody’s jealous.”

“Not sure why. Isn’t like we’re gonna be allowed anywhere near that pretty boy with his perfect golden hair and eyes, and those perfectly curved lips, or—”

Bobby cleared his throat. “Perry’s gone, Kristina; save your teasing for somebody who might react.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

She giggled, turning toward Bobby, then to Red, and finally to Hector. “I guess you’re right.” Her lips quirked into a wicked grin, and she yanked the gym door open, running inside as she called, “Arnold! Wait up!”

“Don’t worry, Hector,” Red said, clapping him on the shoulder. “They goof around, but they know when to get serious, too.”

“What about you, Hector?” Paige asked. “What’s your specialty? I think Melanie was going to tell us more about you…before this.” She flicked a hand toward the big, egg-shaped ship.

“Security.”

“Oh, well, we knew that, but—” She trailed off, looking from Bobby to Red for backup.

Red shrugged. “I’m a marksman, Kristina’s a speedster—fights with a pair of vibro-blades—and you can guess how Perry fights. We’re all decent with aura, but, yeah, I won’t lie: part of the reason we’re on this job is to farm some potentia. Kristina’s got the highest-level system—twenty-two.”

“Well, not higher than Mathews,” Bobby added.

Red shook his head. “Right, but she doesn’t count. Nobody knows what she can do—not really.” He nudged Hector. “So? What about you? I showed you ours…”

Hector stared at him for a few seconds, contemplating how honest he ought to be. “My aura system is low-level, but I know how to fight, and I’ve got experience in rifts—lots of it.”

Red nodded, holding out a fist, knuckles crisscrossed with white scars. “Fair enough. I thought you seemed older than you look. We’ll work out the kinks in the next couple of weeks.”

Hector knocked his knuckles against the other man’s, then he nodded toward the practice field where the Royals were approaching the admin office. “Guess Mathews is about to find out what’s up.”

Bobby folded his arms, reaching up to adjust his specs. “Yes, I don’t believe it’ll be long now. If we don’t hear any screaming, then it’s not bad news.”

Paige snorted, still watching as the last member of the Royals’ security detail took up a guard position outside the door, staring their way through his mirrored helmet visor. “Intimidating.”

“The only one I’d worry about is the guy with the aura,” Red replied.

Hector nodded, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want the others to understand just how familiar he was with high-level aura systems. Instead, he changed the topic: “Who’s Hakeem? I really stole his place on the team?”

Bobby glanced at Red, and the marksman nodded, shrugging as he brushed some sandy brown hair behind his ear. “Yeah, you could say that. He’s a pretty good guy—tough as nails and cool as ice in a crisis. Anyway, it’s not your fault. He stepped away from the team to take a job down in the Trench. Missed two runs with us, and was supposed to be coming back for this one, but…”

“But some money changed hands, and suddenly your vacancy was filled with a stranger.” Hector leaned his shoulder against the gym wall, a half smile turning up the left side of his mouth.

Red smirked in reply, nodding. “Yeah, that’s about how it went down. Anyway, we’ve run this rift a few times, but none of us are what you’d call veterans. Us three?” Red pointed to Bobby and Paige. “We’ve been in four times. Those two kids—” He jerked his thumb toward the gym doors where Kristina and Perry had gone. “This is only their second run.”

Hector nodded. He’d figured as much—if anything, he’d been generous with his estimate of their experience. It made him wonder if he ought to mention that he’d done more rifts than all of them combined—many times over. He tried to put a number to it, but he’d stopped counting after fifty or so.

//I have records of 117 rift engagements with you, Hector. It could be more; if you entered any rifts close to the time of your…betrayal, my memory of those last few weeks is as bad as yours.//

Right. Thanks.

“You’ve done a few?” Paige asked, hooking a thumb on her tool belt as she, too, leaned a shoulder against the gym wall.

Hector nodded. “Yeah. I won’t slow you down.” He nodded toward Bobby. “What kinds of drills does the, uh, commander run where you two are concerned? She doesn’t expect you to clear resource nodes or blooms, does she?”

“Oh,” Paige brushed her curly brown hair back, blushing as she glanced at Bobby. “I mean, I mostly spend my time falling down or falling behind, but—”

“But she expects us to pull our own weight and be able to defend ourselves,” Bobby said. “She makes us come to practice with the security team because she wants us to know what you all are doing. We complained at first, but after our first raid, we learned how important preparation is.”

“Yeah,” Paige agreed. “It’s very different in person than in the simulators. Nothing quite prepares you for the chaos.”

“That’s right, darling.” Red grinned, digging his fingers into a narrow pocket under his belt, tugging out a slender plastic container. Hector watched as he opened it, removing a tiny paper packet that he stuck in his mouth, shoving it into his cheek with his tongue. He saw Hector watching and offered him the plastic container. “Stim?”

Hector shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.” He wondered what kind of stimulant it was. The fact that Red wasn’t hiding it meant it was probably mild—something socially acceptable. Probably anicotine variant—maybe some kind of nootropic.

“Don’t judge,” Red said. “They won’t dull my edge. Ask anyone—I’m even quicker than Tina.”

“Kristina doesn’t like it when you call her that,” Paige said, frowning.

“Yeah, my bad.” Red grinned, slipping the stims back into his pocket.

Just then a crash resounded from across the lawn, and Hector looked to see Mathews storming out the door. She scowled at the Imperial security standing ready there and then strode across the grass toward Hector and the others.

As she drew near, Red asked, “Well? What’s the story, Boss?”

“Commander,” Mathews growled, glaring at Red until he gave up a wincing shrug.

“Sorry, Commander.”

She sighed, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply as she visibly tried to shake off some irritation. After a moment, she looked at the four of them. “Where are Perry and Gray?”

Hector didn’t remember who Gray was, but Evie heard his questioning thought: //That’s Kristina’s surname.//

“Showers,” Bobby replied.

“Probably playing grab-ass,” Red added.

Mathews scowled, shaking her head. “I’ll fill them in later. It’s good news and bad news.”

“Good news first!” Paige hurriedly said, stepping closer.

Mathews smiled at her. “Good news is we didn’t get bumped. We’re still a go for the next opening.”

Hector had been thinking about the Imperial lander and what it likely meant. He’d come up with two possibilities. Judging by the fact that Mathews still seemed irritated even though they hadn’t lost their slot, he had a good idea what was coming.

“Babysitting,” he muttered.

Mathews nodded to him. “Bingo.”

“What?” Bobby frowned.

Red understood: “Looks like we’re taking that brat Royal into the rift with us.”

“Why the heck—” Paige asked, but Mathews spoke at the same time, cutting her off.

“It’s a rite of passage for some of the big houses—going into a rift. He’d be going in with an Imperial Guard team, but you know how Royals are; they’ve got their calendars filled years in advance. He can’t wait around for the next IG run, and, lucky for us, the base administrator doesn’t have any teams ready in time to bump us.”

“So we get babysitting duty,” Hector finished for her. “Is his guard dog coming along?”

Mathews shook her head. “That glowing son of a bitch? No, thank you. We’re already splitting more shares than I want, and you can’t tell me someone like him wouldn’t scrape more than his fair share of potentia. The kid argued, but it was the woman—his mother, apparently—who settled the matter.” Mathews leaned closer, shifting her voice to a hoarse whisper as she mimicked a shrill voice, “‘If you want your rift cred, then you’ll earn it without your bodyguard, Frederick!’”

Paige’s eyes opened wide. “Risky for a Royal!”

Hector shook his head. “Don’t underestimate them just because they’re wealthy. Some of the great houses have harsh customs—soft children can bring a house down more effectively than war.” He didn’t mean to quote Drake Conti, but the words slipped out. Hector immediately regretted his loose tongue when the others looked at him with expressions ranging from suspicion—Red—to open interest—Bobby.

“Um,” Mathews cleared her throat, nodding as she looked at Hector with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, that seems to be the case here. He’s coming in with us, and his bodyguards are staying behind.”

“His name’s Frederick?” Paige asked, lightly tapping her chin with her forefinger as she stared at the admin building.

“Yeah,” Mathews replied, her eyes shifting toward the huge egg-shaped lander. “Frederick Ventress.”