I felt the ripstone disintegrating, a great blob of force shattering like an ice asteroid hit by a nuke, pieces of ripstone accelerating away into the void in all directions.

  I reached for the floor, wiping away the shards of iron that clogged my last, failed ward, imbuing it with the force still coursing through me.

  The ward flared into life, an ovoid of glowing white in the empty vacuum before me. Ripstone dust smacked into it, burning out. Other chunks hit the walls, the floor, even the crucible above me, blossoming into clouds of flying steel.

  And then there was stillness.

  Wetness dripped down my chin. I raised my hand and it smacked into my helmet. Wearing a space suit. Right.

  The world shifted and wobbled as I straightened, fastening my magnetic soles to the floor. Hao lay curled into a ball by me, still aiming through the crack, the Hurmer shaking gently in her hands. Behind us, the bodies of armored grunts were in pieces, arms, legs, torsos thick with armor plating cut apart. Droplets of blood mixed with plumes of oil and servo fluid ejected from the cracked suits.

  I fumbled with the hatchling’s oxy-bag. He seemed to be sleeping, his tail curled over his snout, his heartbeat a steady pulse on the bag’s readout.

  A blob of dark brown liquid shot past me, boiling in the vacuum. Something tugged on my leg.

  The bottle in my leg pocket had shattered during the fight and it was building up a pressure and ejecting iced tea. I opened the lock-down flap and let the remnants out before they turned my pocket into an improvised rocket engine.

  I’d have to remember that trick for some other time.

  Right now, all I wanted was to lie down and sleep for a thousand years. Which would be how I’d end up if I fainted. There was still Captain Dordolio and whatever troops he had remaining in the breaking yard. I punched up the Bucket’s sensor net on my readout. Then I gaped.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Dordolio’s ship was gone.

  It had been holding a position close to the ripstone carrier, maybe half a kilometer away. Now it was a cloud of expanding debris barely visible to the Bucket’s weak sensor wards.

  Of the ripstone carrier, there was no sign. It had disintegrated into pieces too small for the sensors to detect. Either that, or the implosion had pulled it into the void somehow. Both would have been instantly fatal.

  That still left the grunts in the yard.

  “Hao,” I said, via microwave. “We might need to run.”

  She didn’t reply. I bent down, checked the wards on her enviro-suit, watched the fog on her face plate blossom and fade with each of her rapid breaths. Alive, but not fit. She looked the way I felt.

  I didn’t know how many grunts there were left, or what shape they were in. I glanced at the Bucket’s readout, wishing I had better sensors. The only thing clearly visible was the warpstone on Dordolio’s troop shuttle, and the yard itself.

  Warpstone. Dordolio had a warp-shuttle.

  It made sense for a Syndicate pirate to need to send his troops on clandestine missions where his ship couldn’t go. And it allowed the grunts a way out, if they wanted to take it.

  I switched my transmission from directed to an open channel.

  “This is an open transmission to whomever commands the combat complement of the Syndicate pirate Gold and Carnelian,” I said. “Your mothership is destroyed. So is the gunboat tender your captain was using to attack us. However, we have no interest in your troop shuttle. If you withdraw now, we will not attempt to hinder you. But if you press the attack, or if you try to interfere with our sealed and warded—” I put a special emphasis on warded, hoping that the troop commander wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t risk his men’s lives trying to enter the Bucket. “—ship, we will fight you.”

  I waited, giving them time to discuss. A minute passed. I imagined them trying to raise Dordolio, or maybe figure out who was in command now. My hands were cold. Everything was cold. I wondered if the heating in my suit had broken down.

  “We hear you,” came a gruff, tired voice over the com. “We agree to your terms, bar one.”

  “Which one?” If they wanted the Bucket, things would turn ugly, fast. I doubted I had the strength to stop them.

  “I want to get my brother,” the voice said.

  “Your what?”

  “My brother. He commanded the attack element. In your room.”

  I glanced over at the floating body parts.

  “He’s dead,” I said, with a sinking feeling, hoping gruff-voice didn’t want revenge.

  “I still want him,” gruff-voice said. “One man to bring him out, then we leave.”

  “Oath?” I said, for what it might be worth.

  “Oath.”

  “Go ahead,” I said. “We won’t try to stop you.”

  I didn’t try to stop them. But I kept aiming my M3 at that lone grunt the entire time.