Riley Vance's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Riley Vance pressed her forehead against the cage bars and counted guards. Six weeks ago she had built a gun from scrap on a dying station and kept a written list of every part. Now the gun was gone, her wrists were locked in glowing blue shackles, and the man she'd trusted to watch her back was sitting behind her telling her to stop moving. "Riley." Mendez's voice was low. His military fatigues were stiff with dried blood at the shoulder. He kept his goatee tipped down, eyes on the dirt. "Sit. Breathe. Don't give them a reason." "They don't need a reason." She kept counting. The cage was wood braced with iron, the joints humming faint blue where the Vael tech ran through the frame. Outside, a tunnel mouth glowed the same color. Small purple scouts hauled ore carts in and out. Their tails dragged lines in the sand. "Someone will come," Mendez said. "No one's coming." She said it flat, so he'd hear she meant it. Their group at the fortress didn't know where they were. Emmy was gone. The jeep was a wreck in a dry wash miles back. "It's us or nothing." He finally looked up. "You fire that homemade piece one time and think you're ready for this?" "It worked." "Mostly." She almost smiled. Then the ground shook and she didn't. The overseer came out of the tunnel. He was twice the size of the scouts, purple plates layered like armor down his chest, one antenna curling from his forehead, a tail thick as her leg. Commander Urig. She'd heard a scout hiss the name before they threw her in. When he stepped into the yard, every other Vael froze mid-motion, then bent lower over their work. One dropped a pick and scrambled to pick it up before Urig turned his head. Riley watched that. She watched it hard. "See him?" she whispered. "They're scared of him. Not us. Him." "So?" "So they don't think for themselves. He goes down, they scatter, or they stall. Either way we get a window." Mendez shook his head. "Riley. No." Urig walked the line of cages. He stopped at theirs. His yellow eyes moved over Mendez, then settled on Riley. He tapped one claw against the lock. The blue light in the frame pulsed brighter, then dimmed. He said something in a clicking tongue to a scout, and the scout ran. When he moved on, Riley let out the breath she'd been holding. "He marked us," Mendez said quietly. "Good." Riley shifted her wrists inside the shackles. The cuff on her left was loose. A hairline of give, maybe the width of a fingernail. She'd felt it when Urig tapped the lock. Something in the tech had flickered. She looked at Mendez. "We're not waiting for a rescue. We're going tonight."