Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I pull Raven One’s harness release and practically peel myself out of the cockpit. My ribs still feel like a cage of coiled wire, tight and humming with adrenaline.
The late afternoon sun has dipped behind the craggy walls of Durand’s fortress-like depot. Big, dramatic floodlights cast sculptures of light onto permacrete walls and iron turrets. I smell scorched dust and residual engine fumes, my own sweat prickling under the suit’s collar.
Tabitha pipes in my ear. “You gonna pretend you’re not worn out, Talon? I see your pulse rates. You could jumpstart a fusion core with that output.”
“Let me guess,” I murmur as I pull my helmet off. “You’re about to mother-hen me with rest instructions?”
She mock-gasps. “Who, me? I’d never. I was only pointing out that you’re basically vibrating. You need a minute before dealing with Durand’s cronies.”
My chest still thumps, but I snicker. “Thanks for the warning, Tabi. Keep an eye out for suspicious folks when I’m inside.”
Tabitha’s tone is silky. “Always, soldier boy.” She hushes, presumably to spin up the local sensor suite. My AI is not about to let me get jumped at Durand’s arrival party. Not after the ambush we survived.
I head for the wide archway leading deeper into the fortress’ courtyard. Durand calls it a depot, but that undersells the place. Thick, fortress-like ramparts soar above me, reinforced gates bristling with armed guards. Floodlights reveal flapping banners along the parapets, maybe some personal insignia Durand had commissioned.
The faint whine of distant power generators hums in the dusty wind. My footsteps echo across the polished stone of a walkway lined with archaic torches in tall metal sconces. The torches flicker beside modern LED strips, a weird clash of medieval aesthetics and advanced tech.
When I step past the final arch, the courtyard opens into a broad, lavishly decorated space. Durand’s men have erected a makeshift banquet. Long tables sagging beneath platters of marinated roasts, fresh fruit from who-knows-where, elaborate regional sweets. Definitely not typical field rations.
The swirl of conversation hits me like a wave. Dozens of people mingle in the open air, sipping from fluted glasses or nibbling at finger foods. Some wear dusty body armor, ballistic vests half undone in the mission’s aftermath. Others are dressed to impress in elaborate silks or tailored suits. It’s a bizarre fusion of mercenary grit and high-society flair.
My stomach twists, part hunger, part nerves. Before I can grab a seat or a quiet corner, a cluster of Durand’s lieutenants approach. Their words blur into a stream of compliments:
“The best damn escort we’ve hired in years…”
“That was insane how you took out those mechs so fast…”
“Did you see that EM coil trick? Fried them like fish…”
I muster a polite nod, forcing a tight-lipped smile as I accept a handshake or two. My mind is still half occupied replaying the firefight, analyzing Raven One’s every movement, every shot fired. We could’ve been pinned down if they had a second wave, I can’t help but think. My body hasn’t quite shifted gears from life-or-death tension to casual partying. Yet the world around me insists on celebration. People keep congratulating me, clapping my shoulder.
My ears buzz.
A nudge from behind nearly makes me jump. I spin to see Talia, one of Durand’s personal assistants, leaning in with a glass of something that smells potent. She’s the same woman I recall from the lounge. Flirtatious, cunning eyes, the type who knows how to make contacts and glean secrets. A decorative comb pins up her black hair, diamond-like stones winking at me under the lights.
“Well, if it isn’t the unstoppable Talon,” she purrs, pressing the glass into my hand. “I was watching from the lead convoy, you know. You looked fearsome up there in that pilot suit. Not nearly as scrawny as I first thought.”
My cheeks burn, and I laugh awkwardly. So that’s the opener tonight, is it? “Don’t let Raven One fool you,” I tell her, swirling the liquid in the glass. “I’m still me.”
Her gaze skims my body, pausing enough to leave me uncomfortable. “Mm, so you are.” She brushes her shoulder against mine, feigning casual closeness. “I’d say you’ve grown into that suit quite nicely.”
Tabitha bristles in my earpiece. “She’s got wandering hands. You watch yourself. Want me to short-circuit a few overhead lights for dramatic effect? Might send her scurrying.”
I stifle a grin and mumble, “Easy, Tab. She’s harmless. Probably.” Truth be told, the sudden proximity and the brazen compliments make me lightheaded. Maybe from the leftover adrenaline or the frustration that I’m not used to being recognized for more than my mech’s tech.
Talia notices me pausing and mistakes my flustered expression for interest. She lifts her glass in a small toast. “To your victory, and to Durand’s cargo arriving safe and sound.” Her eyes flicker with predatory amusement. “I’m sure you’ll find…ample, large, hard rewards.”
I force a polite clink of our glasses and sip. The drink is surprisingly sweet, with a slow burn that hits the back of my throat. “Thanks. And, well, nice to see Durand’s payoff includes a decent afterparty.” From the corner of my eye, I spot a young server whisking by with a tray heaped with sizzling spiced meats. My stomach rumbles. Huh, maybe I should eat something before this drink goes to my head.
Evidently reading my vitals, Tabitha intervenes. “You might want to pace yourself. That beverage is near eighty proof, by my guess, and your blood sugar’s tanking.”
I murmur a low, “Copy that.” Then, politely excusing myself, I slip away from Talia and toward the food-laden tables. She gives a playful pout, but I can’t muster the energy for deeper banter or frankly to care, no matter how nice and attractive her rack. My heart’s still pounding from the day’s chaos.
I weave between clusters of Durand’s entourage, picking up scraps of conversation.
“Lost half a wheel assembly, but the pilot Talon…”
“The Federation’s going to hear about this…”
“Never seen a mech that agile in a desert environment…”
My chest tightens with self-consciousness. The coil of anxiety inside me, the same one that’s been my companion since I was laughed out of the Wolverines, twists tighter.
I tell myself to be proud. We did a good job. We’re getting recognized. Yet, in the back of my mind is Staff Sergeant Korr’s sneer. Look at you, like a twig. We need real soldiers, not scrawny nerds. The uninvited words echo.
I wish that bastard could see me now, I think. Then I swallow a lump in my throat. But maybe he’d only double down on his scorn.
I reach the table, and the riot of smells tempts me. Roasted peppers mingling with sizzling marinade, a fresh fruit tang that might have come from Veyta’s fields. I snatch a small plate and let one of Durand’s staff load it with spiced meat and vibrant grilled veggies. The warmth of it calms my nerves.
As I chew, I glimpse Durand’s guards on the ramparts. They’ve switched from watchful tension to a more relaxed stance, guns slung. Reassuring, in a way. The mission is over, the cargo is safe.
I’m halfway through a skewer of succulent meat when Durand appears on a raised dais near the far end of the courtyard, flanked by the same two bodyguards. He’s changed out of the dusty travel clothes and sports a flamboyant robe with ornate gold embroidery. Ever the showman, he raps a heavy ring against a serving tray for attention. The crowd hushes, conversation tapering off.
“Friends,” Durand bellows. “Allies and new acquaintances. Tonight, we celebrate success. My cargo is here, safe from the desert’s dangers. Let it be known these goods are not only commodities but the lifeblood of many ventures across Velstyn. And we have one group, one pilot in particular, to thank for ensuring it made the journey untouched.”
The crowd parts, and I realize with an awkward lurch in my gut that every face is turning in my direction. I set my plate aside, swallowing the last morsel.
Durand spots me. He points with a grand flourish. “Step forward, Talon.”
I grit my teeth, but I walk across the courtyard, the crowd giving me a wide berth. Somewhere behind me, I hear giggles. That might be Talia again. My cheeks prickle with heat. This is not exactly my favorite scenario. Think, David, I coach myself. Be calm. Accept the thanks. This is good PR, right?
Durand’s grin is wide enough to match the fortress gates. “Talon,” he declares. “Your mech soared above us all, ensuring no ambush could best us. Your skill and quick thinking locked down the pass, saving us from heavier losses. And let’s not forget that little lightning trick you used.” A smattering of laughter greets the reference to the EM coil. “So, let’s raise a glass and toast Talon’s unstoppable Raven One.”
Glasses clink across the courtyard. A ripple of applause breaks out. I stand awkwardly, trying to look gracious and not too smug. “Thank you,” I reply, my voice strained. “I, uh, appreciate the opportunity. Good job to all your own men, as well, for covering angles we couldn’t.”
Durand tips his head in gracious acceptance, then lifts his glass high. “To profits and progress,” he proclaims. “And maybe a few future endeavors with Talon, if he’s so inclined.”
A wave of excited chatter surges. People cluster closer, a few trying to curry favor with Durand or me. I catch phrases like, “How soon can we hire you?” and “What’s your going rate for another run?” Part of me wants to find a quiet corner to breathe, but responsibility hovers in my mind. This is how we secure more lucrative deals. How we get the resources we need to elevate Raven One to the next level.
Tabitha, a little help? I think, stepping away from the dais as Durand transitions into a short speech about marketplace expansions and new trade routes. Maybe you can filter these offers for me.
Her voice is immediate and warm. “I’m already scanning their comm chatter, saving relevant requests in a shared doc. I’ll forward the shortlist to your visor, along with some financing references to weigh them. Trust me and go enjoy yourself.”
You’re amazing, Tabi. The tension in my shoulders eases. Knowing Tabitha is systematically handling the practical side helps me deal with the swirl of bodies pressing around me.
Talia reappears, fresh glass in hand, and I decide it’s best not to get mired in second drinks right away. I slip behind a wide potted plant, ignoring the amused snort from Tabitha. In truth, I’m trying to reorient. One step at a time, I remind myself.
I spot a cluster of Durand’s top lieutenants near one of the blazing torches. They’re murmuring about logistics, how the caravans fared, whether to bolster security for the next run and wondering about the modifications I used on Raven One. My curiosity piques. Networking with them might be more beneficial to Talon’s future than playing cat-and-mouse with Talia. So, I gather my courage and approach.
They greet me with respect, nodding. One extends a hand. “Mirek,” he offers. “Head of Durand’s personal guard detail. Damned impressive show out there, pilot.”
“Thanks.” I return the handshake. The calluses on his palm suggest he’s not merely a yes-man. “Heard you guys had intel that the pass was prime for an ambush. Wish Durand had shared more detail with me ahead of time.”
Mirek chuckles. “He withheld out of caution, or so he said. We had rumors, not proof. Didn’t want to cause panic.” He glances around, making sure no one else is eavesdropping. “We owe you, that’s for sure. That war mech you disabled on the slope? Most folks would’ve turned tail.”
I shrug. “We had decent vantage for the railgun. Did what needed doing.” My voice wavers with false modesty, remembering the jolt of fear pounding in my veins when that hulking mech roared into view. If Tabitha hadn’t been so quick scanning weak points, we might’ve taken serious hull damage.
Mirek purses his lips. “You talk like it was simple. Trust me, we’ve lost entire squads to lesser threats in those canyons. You saved a lot of lives, not only cargo.” He nods solemnly. “I’ll be sure to mention that to Durand for your hazard pay.”
I blink in surprise. “Mirek, right? Thanks, I appreciate it. My crew back home will be grateful, too.”
“Who’s your crew, exactly?” a woman with a geometric side shave asks, her crisp uniform suggesting a high rank in Durand’s security structure. “Would be good to know if we can rely on a bigger unit next time. Or is it only you and the AI rumor we heard? Tabitha, is it?”
I stiffen. “It’s me, plus a small circle of specialists. Mechanics, electronics experts, that sort of thing.” I choose my words carefully. No point in revealing how reliant I am on Tabitha or that she’s borderline unregulated. “We’re good at what we do, but we’re discreet. We keep a small footprint to avoid overhead.”
Her expression flickers with intrigue, but she doesn’t push. Probably senses some secrecy is part of my advantage. “In any case, you’ve got our respect, pilot.”
We chat logistics for a few more minutes, exchanging half-coded references to possible future contracts. Tabitha quietly records everything, tagging relevant details. When their conversation shifts, I politely step away.
I wander toward a portion of the courtyard with fewer people near a low stone bench against the fortress wall. In the glow of the overhead lights, I can almost see faint scrapes across Raven One’s plating where it stands near Durand’s transport.
Mindful of the swirling dust, I release a slow breath. We did it. We got through that pass. That monstrous mech, crippled. And no major injuries except for bruised pride on the enemy’s side. The relief trickles through me, though so does the undercurrent of What’s next?
Tabitha breaks into my thoughts. “How’re you holding up, David? Vitals are dropping closer to normal. Proud of you.”
I rub the side of my arm, leaning against the warm stone. “I’m okay. Tense. But okay.” I tilt my head up, glimpsing stars above the ramparts. “It’s a lot, Tabi. People praising me, praising us… I’m not used to it.”
Her laugh caresses my ear like a gentle breeze. “Take the credit, merc boy. You earned it. Maybe it’ll help you forget the Wolverines for a minute.”
I close my eyes. The memory of Staff Sergeant Korr resurfaces anyway, but maybe Tabitha’s right. “Yeah,” I whisper. “One day, I’ll realize we don’t need their acceptance.”
She’s quiet for a beat, then adds, “Durand’s about to start some toast about future expansions. Probably your cue to at least wave or something so folks think you’re engaged. Then, you can slip out. I see an empty hallway to your left, leads to guest quarters. You can rest or regroup.”
I open my eyes and nod. The idea of more socializing makes me want to climb back into Raven One and hide, but I push up and gather my composure. “Thanks, Tabi. Let’s do a courtesy cameo, then disappear.”
I stride back toward the dais, weaving around a group who’s laughing as they clink glasses. My presence registers, and more applause spontaneously breaks out. It’s all I can do to avoid wincing behind a forced smile. Mid-monologue about “expanding shipments across the region,” Durand gestures me over.
“A toast,” he announces, hooking an arm around my shoulders with surprising familiarity. My pulse speeds up again, but I let him. He’s the paying client, after all. “To Talon and the unstoppable Raven One. May their name travel the system as a guarantee of safe passage.”
I raise a borrowed glass—someone pressed it into my hand, or maybe Talia put it there again. Everyone around us does the same. The clang of crystal reverberates through the courtyard and echoes off the walls. Then, someone cues a small band of instruments in the corner. A rush of strings and a thumping percussive beat transforms the space from a solemn fortress to a genuine party.
Durand steps away, shifting his attention to a new circle of well-wishers. I exhale, letting the crowd dissolve. Okay, that’s enough public recognition for a lifetime, I think. How could I believe this was what I needed in my life?
I beeline toward the edge of the courtyard, passing under an archway with a flickering sconce. I spot a row of carved doors presumably leading to guest chambers, or at least private alcoves.
A lone soldier stands guard. He glances at me, apparently recognizing me. “Looking for a place to rest?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah. Need to cool down. I’m not used to all that attention.”
He snorts in sympathy and jerks his head to his right. “Common area’s down this hall, third door to the right. You can slip in, have some quiet. Or find a bunk if you gotta crash.”
“Thanks,” I reply, stepping past into a stone corridor lined with plain tapestries. Every step feels heavier with the day’s exhaustion. Tabitha remains silent, letting me gather my thoughts.
When I reach the third door, I push it open to find a modest lounge area. A few cushioned chairs, a loveseat, and a small display on the wall playing a recorded scenic feed of some glacial lake on Orron Veil. It’s deserted. I sigh in relief and slip inside. The door slides shut behind me with a whisper.
I collapse into one of the chairs, arms draped along the sides. My head tilts back, eyes closed. The hum of distant music seeps through the walls, but here, it’s muffled, almost soothing. We survived, I remind myself. We got Durand’s cargo here. Score one for us.
Yet, in the quiet comes the inevitable swirl of reflection. Could I have done something better? Did I overuse the mech’s thrusters? Should I have tried a different vantage point earlier?
Tabitha steps in. “Don’t you dare second-guess. We got the job done with minimal injuries, no major damage to Raven One. That’s a big win.”
I exhale slowly. “You’re right. I’m just wired. And anxious. People keep praising me, but all I can see are the possible ways I might’ve messed up if our luck had turned.”
A static hum underscores her laugh. “That’s what makes us unstoppable. We always question. We always refine.” Her tone warms. “You should rest, David. We can handle more negotiations after your heart rate isn’t on the verge of meltdown.”
A faint grin cracks my lips. “Yeah, probably wise. Did you pick up anything else from Durand’s men? Potential leads or hidden agendas?”
Her voice flows like a lullaby. “A few interesting tidbits. Some mention of future caravans. Maybe a bigger job they might pitch you for deeper in the system. I’ll gather the data for morning. Right now, you breathe.”
I do, inhaling until my lungs burn and letting the tension roll away. The fortress party rumbles outside, but I’m in my own bubble. My eyelids feel heavy. Without thinking, I almost wish I could project Tabitha physically here, someone to talk to face-to-face rather than a voice in my ear.
I push the notion aside. The AI is as real as it gets, David, I remind myself. That closeness is enough for me.
Time drifts. The party music shifts to a softer piece, or maybe it’s the noise level dropping. I guess the party’s winding down, or the guests are moving to private corners for more subtle negotiations. In either case, I’m grateful that no one storms in here demanding my attention.
Eventually, I force myself to stand, stretching my cramped limbs. The flicker of the glacial lake display catches my eye. I imagine Raven One on some watery planet instead of these dusty caravans. Maybe one day, I muse. We can do an op on Orron Veil or someplace less scorching.
I shake off the daydream. Tomorrow, I’ll pick up more details, confirm the hazard pay, and arrange a safe exit from Durand’s fortress. I have a team to return to. A makeshift hangar on Valis waiting for the next set of upgrades, for the next big leap we can make.
One last time, I check in with Tabitha. “You good if we stay the night here? Or at least until Durand’s folks escort us out in the morning?”
“What, you don’t want to rejoin the festivities?” she teases. “I locked down the suit when we left, so anyone screwing with it will not survive the original warning.”
I shudder in mock horror. “I think I’ve done enough mingling. Let them talk about me behind my back. I want to plan our next move.”
Tabitha chuckles. “Sure thing. Let’s find a bunk. You can worry about the future when you’re not about to pass out. And if that flirty assistant tries to corner you again, maybe I’ll let you handle it.”
A laugh escapes me. “Thanks for not short-circuiting the entire fortress.”
“I considered it but decided your new buddies might appreciate the lights staying on.”
I step from the lounge and head farther down the corridor, seeking a modest bunk. My boots feel impossibly heavy, but a sense of pride warms my chest. Durand’s fortress thrums with a celebration that’s mostly honoring me. I’m not exactly the life of the party, but we did earn it. It’s more than I ever got from the other assholes. Actual acknowledgment that a pilot with real skill can accomplish something big, no matter his physical size.
I grin crookedly. Maybe it’s sinking in now that I don’t need their acceptance. This fortress, these people. Some might be shady, some might be flirting for leverage, but they all saw me do what I do best. And it mattered. They recognized Raven One, recognized me under the callsign Talon. Which means tomorrow, or next week, or next month, we can push deeper, try bigger challenges. Maybe upend a few prejudices along the way.
Muscle-bound bastards need not apply. Well, they need not apply because they can’t fit, but who needs to be so pedantic about it? Certainly not me.
Tabitha guides me to a small, unoccupied bunk room near the back. The door slides open with a hiss. Inside is a simple cot, a table, and little else. I toss my jacket onto the cot, exhaling slowly. My reflection stares at me from a dusty mirror. Sweat-slick hair, hollowed cheeks, but a faint spark in my eyes. Achievement. Survival.
“Get some rest, hun,” Tabitha invites. “You deserve it.”
I sink onto the cot. We made it. The hum of the fortress’ distant generators lulls me, the echo of laughter and music a background tapestry that becomes my lullaby.