“Tunnelers. It is a cornerstone technology, one of a category that has allowed humanity to spread amongst the stars. The Bi-directional Energy Coefficient Tunneler, usually simply called the Tunneler, allows for faster-than-light travel, and despite what Old Earth fiction liked to suggest, these do not come attached to starships.
Big, expensive, dangerous and mostly immobile, a Tunneler ‘shoots’ a ship towards their destination, rapidly accelerating them past the limits that science once insisted upon. Once inside a tunnel, the only device capable of tracking a ship is called a Skipper, which will be the subject of the next chapter.”
Cornerstone Technologies, issue seventeen of Know Your Galaxy
Bea took his hand, and deciding that asking for permission would be a risk too large, Mat urged his medibots to invade her body. Bea jerked back like he’d slapped her, the most startled reaction he’d seen on her yet, but his blood has already invaded her own.
Mat took a step back, realizing that might not have been the wisest move. “That will take care of the kill switches in your body.”
“Of course it will,” she replied, tone flat. “You’ve got a Federation regiment in your back pocket, too? Maybe Obedias’s non-existent daughter, who we can trade for our freedom.”
He held up a hand, suppressing the urge to cringe. Have you ever wished that you could travel back in time, even for only a few seconds? Mat sure did. “You have no reason to believe me, but the kill switches are gone. Here.”
Mat took a moleblade and phase shield from one of the dead guards, throwing them at her feet. Bea took them, her eyes never leaving his, and after a moment, she frowned. Then frowned more, probably feeling the effect his medibots were having.
She looked half starved, which he couldn't fix like snapping his fingers, but they were called medibots for a reason. He imagined she would be feeling much better, and doing so quite rapidly.
Her kill switches would take another few minutes, though. There was no real haste, not unless Obedias knew exactly what was happening. If that was the case, they were both dead anyway.
“Something is off about you,” Bea muttered, finally stepping out of her cell. Her blade was held loosely in one hand, and he was very aware how quickly she could kill him with it. “But fuck it, I was getting tired of being a show puppet anyway. If they haven’t killed you for this, you might actually be telling the truth.”
Mat shrugged. “I am, but you’ll find out soon enough. The revolution, as they say, has begun.”
“Has it now? On whose authority?”
He looked down at the dead guards, and though she didn’t know it, how Nova was slowly infecting more and more of the ship. Eventually, Mat grunted. “Mine.”
“Yours,” she mused. “And does this glorious revolution have a step two, or are we already improvising?”
Now Mat smiled. “There is a step two, actually. There’s a room full of droids four hallways away, recharging. We’re taking them over, and then we’re scrapping two of them for parts. After that, we need to find Theo. And quickly. We’re blind to the cameras, but that won’t last forever.”
Bea paused, clearly weighed that over, before she spoke. “Theo, the man who claims to have improved the signal jammers so Obedias won’t just kill us all. Theo, who is about as mad as you can be while staying functional. That Theo?”
“That Theo.”
“Well, if you’re lying, we’re both about to die, and I lost my fear of that long before Obedias dragged me into this petty prison. Why do we even need him if you have high-grade medical nanobots?”
Mat blinked, then decided to take his good fortune in stride. This wasn’t impossible without her, especially not with how much energy he could feel Nova collecting in the background, but it would be leagues easier.
Or maybe it really would be impossible. Either way, it appeared he didn’t have to find out. “Because it would take too long, and they only replace themselves so quickly. Trust me, if Obedias had given me another month or two, this would be going far more smoothly.”
If Bea found that a curious statement, she didn’t voice it. Mat shrugged. The time to keep every inch of Nova’s abilities hidden was over. With this much death he would be racing towards level six, and he no longer had to care about subtlety or stealth.
All the people on this ship were slavers, and after a year under their care, Mat found he had no moral qualms about killing each and every one of them. Doubly so if that meant a steep rise in his own level of power. “Let’s go.”
They met no one as they moved to the droid room, which he was sure had a proper name. He also didn’t care. There were over twenty of the things, a number that seemed to give pause even to Bea, but Mat moved up to one of the consoles. Another stream of black blood, and Nova was in their closed system.
The AI sent him a feeling of indignation, busy as he was. Fighting the ship's AI, collecting death energy, keeping them hidden, and now taking over droids? Nova conjured a picture of a man being quartered, which Mat supposed meant ‘I’m being pulled into too many damn directions at once’.
Mat had full confidence in Nova’s supremacy, to which the AI sent back a smug feeling of superiority. Mat snorted.
“We’ve got company,” Bea said. Mat turned, cursing quietly. “I’ll take care of them.”
He was sure she could, but losing his only ally now would be stupid, and she was weak after weeks of isolation. His medibots would still be fixing that until they ran out of power and died, but it would take hours, if not days, for her to get back on her feet.
Bea was already gone. Mat blinked, then chased after her, seeing but a flash turn around one of the corners. How she knew that they had company was beyond him. She had no biomods or techplants that he knew of.
Mat followed, rounding that same corner maybe three, four seconds after she did. Beyond stretched a surprisingly quiet scene of carnage.
Bea was already in the middle of the group, seven strong and heavily kitted. Her moleblade was in hand, the mercs scrambling to adapt, but Mat could see two of the veteran ones. The fighters with experience and proper training, and who could move at speeds neither of them could keep up with.
No matter how good he was, or how much better than him Bea was, unnatural speed was one hell of an equalizer.
One of those veterans surged forth, a sword in hand and his expression calm. Mat ran through his options to help, and found none. Bea was turned the other way, decapitating a woman who was fumbling for her gun. She would die, and he needed more time with the droids.
Bea twisted, avoiding the blow like she had her very own version of local omniscience. The veteran jerked back, but Bea stepped after him, and all his speed meant nothing when she seemed to know his every move. Three blows they exchanged. Her moleblade was blocked by his knife, her kick was dodged by a hair, and then her fist slammed into his throat.
Whatever kit that man ran with, it seemed to make his skin as taut as hardwood. Bea’s fingers slammed into that skin, and the man gagged anyway, as if she had hit the perfect point to collapse his airway. Then she was twisting away, backhanding a woman who was trying to tackle her.
Mat blinked, slowing to a halt. In a whirlwind of violence she butchered and killed, and moments later she straightened, turning to him. A four armed man fell as she did, crashing to the floor. Bea shrugged at his wide-eyed stare. “People tend to overrely on their kits, especially two-bit mercs like these. Here’s a lesson for you, all free and proper; no amount of money can make up for skill, not even with the best biomods in the galaxy.”
“How the fuck did they capture you in the first place?” Mat asked, half blurting the question. If she could do that without a kit, then what— Bea’s face twisted, and he flinched. “Sorry. Get me a gun? A pistol is fine. Then we have droids to scrap.”
Bea paused, then bent down to take one.
Jason resisted the urge to strangle the muttering fool, wondering how things had gotten so boring. Being recruited to the resistance had seemed great fun, and maybe even his ticket back to civilized space. Instead, he was stuck babysitting Theo, who just wouldn't stop muttering to himself.
It was better than doing nothing by the smallest of margins, but then this was important. Maybe Theo was lying, maybe he couldn't create the signal jammers at all, but those in charge had deemed it worth the investment of manpower.
The first sign that something was wrong came from a returning bladeslave. The man was shaking, not with fear or anger, but excitement. Not unusual, if he was a sadist. But Jason knew of the man, and a sadist he was not.
To another man the bladeslave ran, whispering something in his ear. Then that man turned to another, and another, until finally, Noah himself was informed. Their glorious leader. Jason found the man to be rather full of himself, but he had to admit that Noah cared for his people. And also knew how to make them care for him in turn.
After a few minutes, Jason himself was informed. Apparently the guards were moving like a kicked anthill, and droids were sectioning off each domus. Jason rolled his shoulder, looking around. If this was it, he would need a weapon.
Hmmn. A tranblade or a chair? The former would do little to droids, but it might overwhelm the guards with their fiercely stinging stabs. The chair, on the other hand, had some heft to it. Good for knocking people on their ass.
Jason barked out a laugh, running his fingers over the table in a pleasing rhythm. His hands would do, at least until he could loot some proper weapons. That was assuming that something was actually going to happen, of course. If not, boredom would resume.
A few tense minutes passed, though Theo didn’t seem to notice. Jason didn’t really care. He cared little about many of those in his domus. In fact, the most interesting person he’d met was—
The door opened, and Mat came striding inside, covered in blood and wearing an overflowing, and not to mention crude, backpack. Bea was behind him, her infamy proceeding her like an invisible wave.
Mat looked around, then twisted, making for Jason instead. Ah, no. Not him, Theo. Jason buried a sliver of disappointment, noting with some interest how Mat, undeniably the less dangerous of the pair, was taking point.
“Make your jammers,” Mat all but commanded. Theo’s eyes bulged at the sight of the backpack, a slightly too wide grin taking over his face. Mat nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned to Jason himself. “Hand.”
Jason extended his hand, more confused than afraid. Mat took it, and Jason jerked backwards almost at once. Too late, and black blood absorbed into his skin. Mat shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, we don’t have much time. That will take care of your kill switches. Who’s your resistance leader?”
“That would be me,” Noah said, his deep voice almost reverberating off the walls. Mat turned, and Jason almost grinned at how Bea shifted her stance. Dangerous indeed. Noah folded thick arms over a thicker chest. “Report.”
Mat raised an eyebrow. “I’m not yours, bladeslave, and you don’t give me orders. Gather your people and get ready to fight. We need to take one of the armories before we can liberate the other domuses. But before any of that, Theo needs to make his jammers, or a lot of people are going to die.”
Noah paused for a second, and Jason thrummed his fingers against his thigh. Would there be a fight? Mat would probably win, especially if he was as much of a cheater as Jason suspected, but Noah commanded respect. Influence. But then the man’s eyes flickered to Bea, and the pecking order established itself.
“I’ll need ten minutes,” Noah finally said. “And at least six jammers.”
“We’ve got enough materials for twenty, if his blueprints didn’t lie. I suggest you hurry. I have someone seeding confusion throughout the ship's systems, but sooner or later Obedias will get a clear picture. He will hate to waste money, but neither will he hesitate to kill us all if we look to be winning.”
Noah nodded, then extended a hand. Mat hesitated, then made the correct call. More black blood was exchanged, and Noah noticeably relaxed. Jason smiled blandly when the man’s eyes turned to him.
“Here,” Mat said. Jason took the offered moleblade and phase shield, watching his friend hand the rest to Noah. “Bea, Jason, Jason, Bea. I trust you both, so I would appreciate it if you could make nice.”
Jason offered her a sweeping bow. “Any friend of Matmat is a friend of mine. A pleasure.”
She offered the shallowest nod in return.
Mat was glad to see Jason again, even if he had pretty much stumbled over the man by accident. His eyes flickered to Noah, who was already shepherding his people into groups, and he suppressed a sigh.
He had hoped the jockeying for power wouldn’t begin quite that quickly.
Still, Tobi’s unasked for advice had held true. Mat’s reputation as a bladeslave wasn’t that good, but neither was he unknown. Acting with supreme confidence, and carrying proper weapons, had tipped the scale. Bea’s looming presence probably did more than both combined.
Noah had fallen in line, for a lack of a better word, at least for now. So for a few minutes Mat watched the domus begin ordering itself, those with knowledge of the resistance the most confident. The others, not so much. Worse off were the newbies, though Noah seemed to have paired them with his own people.
Then Theo was done with the first jammer, and before Mat had fully turned, activated the thing.
It happened in an instant. A fraction of a second so chaotic Mat could barely parse it all. Theo’s head vanished, blood and bone detonating violently as his killswitch activated. Mat closed his eyes in reflex, turning away as the deafening explosion echoed in the small cell. His hearing shattered a split second later, fragments of skull tearing gashes into his skin.
Mat stumbled out of the cell, dazed, to find eight more corpses spread throughout the domus. He shook his head, a deep, loud ringing coming from inside his ear. Pain was only now overcoming surprise, and Mat picked a shard of bone from his arm. By some miracle, his eyes had been spared.
“What the fuck was that?” Nova demanded. Unlike Jason, who seemed to be screaming something too, Nova had the advantage of being inside his head. “No time. Figure it out!”
Nova’s attention had faded again, but Mat could fill in the gaps. Most killswitches relied on a signal to activate them. Both Reg and Nova had confirmed that. But it had seemed strange even then that a jammer would work. Surely they would have safeguards against that kind of thing? An automatic activation if a continuous signal ever broke?
Apparently those did exist, just not on his own. Nine others hadn’t been so lucky, including a man who they really needed.
His hearing popped, medibots restoring his relatively tiny cochlea. Bea seemed fine, and so did Jason, but he slapped them both, willing his blood to heal them. Then he turned to Noah, who was swiftly approaching.
“Safeguard,” Mat said, speaking before the man could. He did not seem happy. “Everyone else is safe, at least so long as they stay close to the jammer. Do you have someone else who can make them?”
Noah scowled, clearly not having been anywhere close to the explosion. Unlike Mat, his body was free of blood. “I wouldn't have bothered to put a guard on him if I did. The mad fool refused to teach anyone, no matter what I offered. Mitch, Rivera, salvage what you can, and keep that damn jammer safe. See if Romera can reverse engineer it. And someone rip out those damned microphones we found.”
Guess that explains how Reg knew we’d have privacy, back when he invited me to the resistance. Must be damn stealthy if Local Omniscience never found them.
“We’re out of time,” Nova replied. “I’m still keeping the ship's AI busy, but Obedias knows something is wrong in the domus. Forty— fifty guards are on the way. They don’t look like they’re going to be asking questions.”
Mat cursed, turning to the door. “Bea, Jason, with me. The guards are coming to either kill us all, or at least to make sure we’re stuck here while they pacify the rest of the ship. If they come in, keep the chokepoint. If they don’t, we’re going out to disrupt them from welding us in.”
Noah had clearly heard him, even though he was already turning away. The small bundle of weapons he had given the man had already been doled out, and now those bladeslaves moved up, joining them at the door.
More were being directed to build a barricade, and soon enough even the most reluctant bladeslave was trying to find weapons. It would have to do. In a fair fight Mat would bet even on an unarmed bladeslave against the guards, but not if the mercs were going to start throwing grenades. Or pumping the domus full of nervegas, for that matter.
Or if they brought flamethrowers.
Jason jogged up and bumped his shoulder, offering a mild, unconcerned smile. “I missed you.”
“I’m still not gay.”
“And I respect that,” the man replied, not pausing for so much as a beat. “Trust me, I’m the last guy who would thrust myself on an unwilling man. Now could we please skip past the part where you view my every action as a gay man’s ruse, and maybe look at it as someone who treasures his friends?”
Mat winced, shaking his head. “Sorry. I— no. Sorry. I shouldn't assume that, you’re right. Thank you for doing this.”
“What are friends for,” Jason replied. “And thank you for apologizing. You would be surprised how some people react at being hit on by a man. It’s like I personally killed their dog, or something. You’re not so bad. Now, you’re telling me Obedias can no longer kill me with the literal flip of a switch. Cool, let’s say I believe that utterly unsupported claim. What’s the next step?”
Bea grunted. “Does he always talk that much?”
“I do indeed,” Jason said, not sounding particularly insulted. “It’s my way of dealing with stress. What’s yours?”
Bea ignored him, and Mat focused when Nova whispered in his ear. “They’re setting up. Looks like they’re charging inside as a show of force.”
“Show time,” Mat said, wiping his bloodied hands mostly clean. Then he shook his head, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen just a man's head get blown clean off. And how it was his fault by most ways of looking at it, at least directly speaking. No time. “The first through will be a team of heavily armored, well kitted mercs, five strong. Pick someone and overwhelm one. Bea, take two. Jason’s with me.”
There was some shuffling, though that quieted when Jason started pointing at people and loudly demanding they do as they’re told. Mat was too busy trying to be as calm as he appeared.
This was getting out of control, and it was getting out of control quickly. One mistake, one fuckup, one missed clue, and dozens could die. Hundreds. He could die.
Mat snorted. And here he thought he’d made peace with that. Yet with freedom so close, he found dying to be an intolerable thought—
The door opened, though the word open implied a gentle, almost inviting gesture. Instead it was blasted through with the force of a battering ram, and five figures came pouring inside. Maybe they knew the domus had revolted, or maybe they just wanted to make a spectacular entrance.
What was very clear was that they clearly hadn’t expected the bladeslaves to be armed.
Mat’s moleblade cut a line from shoulder to hip, carving through layers of armor capable of keeping even molecular weaponry at bay. The force still sent the man spinning, and Jason almost lazily stepped after the man. The merc raised his own blade to defend, catching the blow.
A burst of speed let him catch Mat’s next strike too, but two against one was a poor matchup for anyone, let alone against bladeslaves. Bea, he could see, was smoothly separating her own opponents away from the rest, and the two remaining guards found six more armed and furious slaves tearing into them.
For all the civility and normalcy that could be found in a domus, Mat knew that none had forgotten their status as slaves. None had been spared the pain of losing a friend, or the fear of facing their own mortality. Now that fear turned into anger, and these mercenaries fought for nothing but money. A weak motive to risk death for. Far, far weaker than freedom.
Mat twisted, sending the man’s stab off course. The moleblade ran down the length of his own, then cut into armored hands. Armor fought against blade, and armor held strong against the weakened blow. Then Jason brought the full weight of his body down on the same wrist, and the appendage fell free.
The merc screamed, and Mat stabbed forward towards his throat. With another burst of speed the man evaded the strike, only for Jason to kick out against his knee. Armored or not, the limbs buckled, then folded inwards.
Bea’s blade pierced the man’s skull, and she withdrew her weapon, already moving to cut down another. Mat shrugged. The energy would have been nice, but he wasn’t lacking enemies at the moment.
Case in point; Mat stepped to the right, where one of the guards had managed to injure a bladeslave. The man’s partner was stuck fighting the merc alone, but he was also smart about it. Bit by bit the man drew the guard away, until he was suddenly all alone.
Mat’s moleblade stabbed into the guard’s spine, a heavy blow that usually took too long to set up. Now it pierced through armor and flesh, severing vertebrae and causing the man to collapse. Mat pulled the weapon back, then stabbed down again.
Nova pulled in the energy, unwilling to waste a scrap of it even now, and Mat could feel the cup overflowing. The reservoir filled. Level six, not even a full hour after level five.
Mass murder, good for everything from revolutions to power leveling. Christ his humor was turning dark.
Speed
Strength
Durability
Intimidate
Flee
Mat grunted. Give me something here, Nova.
“They’re hesitating at the door,” Nova said, sounding hurried again. “You have a few moments. Uuhm, speed comes in bursts via more energy, strength is steady and via a biomod like your balance perk, but it makes the muscles denser instead. Durability hardens your skin to a stone-like texture, intimidate adds a mental component to your voice, and flee gives you a large burst of speed and agility but only when you’re, well, fleeing. I’d recommend— Fuck, I gotta go. Pick something, and I’ll get it done.”
Good enough. Mat half turned, catching Jason's attention. “The other guards are hesitating at the door. Finish off the rest of them and give their weapons to more of Noah’s people, then we charge. With some luck they’ll break and flee.”
“Aye c’ptan,” the man replied, offering a sloppy salute. Jason turned, idly swiping at the one remaining mercs. “Oi, you fuckers gawking at us. Tell Noah we need another five men who like to make blood angels.”
Right, Jason had that in hand. Uuhm. Simple was best. What did he need? Strength and durability were both good, but no matter how strong he was, or how durable, if he couldn't keep up, they’d butcher him into pieces. Flee held some allure, but this was a revolution. Fleeing meant death. Intimidation could be achieved through other means.
Speed was vastly more important, and even if the cooldown period was garbage, it was better than nothing. Somehow, he doubted it would be.
I pick speed.
Energy coursed through his limbs without warning or subtlety, like he’d been wired to a car battery, and Mat stiffened as his muscles pulled taut. Something just south of pain pushed through his every ounce of flesh. Like blood and muscle and bone were being hooked to something much, much greater than himself.
The world slowed way, way down, and for a single, long second, everything moved in slow motion. Mat raised his hand, flexing fingers and closing them into a first. Then the sensation faded, and he found Bea looking at him, head lightly tilted.
“You’re an odd man, Matthias.”
“Mat,” he corrected. “And I suppose that I am.”
She shrugged, turning to the door as the last merc fell dead on the floor. Right, so that was, what? One second? He could feel a cup refilling in his mind—this is why I like descriptions, Nova, I don’t have time to experiment—and then it was full. Ten seconds? Enhanced speed alongside enhanced perception for one second every ten seconds.
Not bad at all. There wasn’t a brain in this galaxy who could endure it all the time, or so Tobi had said. A second every minute was considered pretty decent. One every thirty seconds would be pretty good. He didn’t bother asking Nova why the AI could protect his mind from local omniscience all the time but not enhanced speed.
If Nova could have created a better perk, he would have done so. Still, he could work with this. He could definitely work with this.
And wouldn’t you know it, Obedias had sent him so many eager volunteers to test his new perk on. How kind of the man.
How very, very kind.
Afterword
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