Chapter 13

Marco

Flying was weird. Marco also sucked at it. There was a reason he was an engineer, not a pilot. Still, he figured out how to get in the air and stay there, mostly. The reduced gravity helped a lot. Switching between human and phoenix? Much weirder. Marco marked it as the single most disconcerting thing he'd ever done and knew it would never be knocked from its number one spot.

After a full day of experimentation, he was running out of ways to keep himself occupied. Trying to leave the Grand Line without a ship was lunacy, but it was quickly becoming his only option. Better to make an attempt than give up, right?

He sighed and sat on a nearby rock. Realistically, what could he do? Changing into a phoenix and then holding that form took energy, so he couldn't just do that indefinitely and float through space. Never mind how long a journey like that would take. Two days of oxygen. Half that in water.

It wasn't like a ship would just fall…out of the…sky…

Marco blinked and looked closer. That shape coming out of the shadow of an asteroid definitely wasn't another, smaller asteroid.

He was on his feet. Didn't remember standing. Didn't remember taking off running, either, but here he was. He bolted for the highest rock formation he knew he could reach in time and bounded up it, FlexTech absorbing the low-gravity impacts. A little farther, a little faster. Desperation sent lines of fire racing down his limbs and quite suddenly he was in the air, jetpack propelling him as fast as its design would allow.

When he got close, he saw the UBMC logo stamped on the side of the sleek ship. This wasn't a fighter jet, just a scouting vehicle. He knew the second they noticed him: the ship turned to face him, cockpit glass tinted black.

Marco allowed himself a grim smile. They would try to avoid him in a second; he'd make them freeze before they got the chance.

Fire roared up around him. The ship held steady until Marco crashed into it. As much as he was a firebird, there was still solid mass under all the flames. He scrabbled for purchase, claws catching on a seam. He yanked himself close, heart pounding, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. While there was no sound in space, the vibrations caused by the airlock door opening carried across the ship easily enough. Marco hunched down farther, eyes fixed on the edge of the ship. Half a minute passed, and then a very trepidatious marine cleared the ship's horizon. His visor wasn't tinted—surprising Marco; he'd gotten too used to Ace's heavily modified gear—and his eyes were wide as he approached. He spoke into his radio. Marco read his lips.

"Uh, yeah, it's…it's definitely here." The marine's magnetic boots clamped to the ship's roof. "How the hell would I know? You ever seen a flying blue space bird before? Yeah, that's what I thought." He swallowed. "Uh, no. I don't think it's attacking."

Marco almost pitied the boy. He looked young, only a couple years older than Ace. That pseudo-pity evaporated with the marine's next words.

"No, doubt this thing tripped the mines. It's not big enough. Something else did. But it's definitely what the sensors were picking up."

Mines. There were mines in the Grand Line, and the UBMC had put them here. Why?

The answer all but slapped him. The fruit. Of course. Why else? But then why wouldn't they just take it?

Marco's thoughts drifted to the caverns. Even with a hundred men, there was no way to canvas the entire planetoid, and all the natural interference completely nullified any attempts to just run deep scans. So maybe they didn't know exactly where the fruits were, but they knew they were in the Grand Line, and they'd be damned if they let anyone else take them.

A low growl rumbled out of Marco's chest. The marine couldn't hear it; he was taking slow steps closer to Marco.

"All right, birdie, you wanna explain how you got here? And why you looked like a man before you exploded? Easy, now. Don't wanna hurt ya."

Marco scowled, but the expression didn't translate. Didn't want to hurt him? Tell that to the hundreds of innocents the UBMC had killed over the years. He let the marine get even closer, close enough to touch, before he made his move.

In a rush of blue and gold, Marco flew by the marine, looped around the roof's edge, and curled into the airlock. He caught the handle with a claw and pulled it closed, or tried to; the marine's safety line got in the way.

Thinking on his feet had never been Marco's strong suit. That was Ace's area of expertise. The mercenary's reflexes were unparalleled. Marco was just an engineer.

An engineer with phoenix powers.

After breaking the camera peering down from a high corner, Marco let the flames burn out. He was breathing hard, sweat sliding down his spine, but the change was worth it when the marine rushed into the airlock. Marco swiftly removed the stun baton from the holster on the marine's thigh he'd spotted earlier and jabbed it into the guy's ribs.

At least, that's what he tried to do. He got the stun baton but didn't even have time to hit the activation button before the marine tackled him. They wrestled on the airlock floor, only to drift upwards when the marine tried to slam Marco's head against the ground. Seeing the marine reaching for his gun. Marco desperately wedged his foot between them and shoved the marine out the airlock door. He didn't get far; the line went taut. In the brief second of reprieve, Marco reached for the stun baton, jetpack providing just enough push to let him close his fingers around it.

In that instant, a puff of blue and gold spread out from Marco's wrist. He frowned. He hadn't called the fire. Why—

Pain drowned out his thoughts. It disappeared quickly, but Marco gripped his wrist with his other hand, muscles aching with tension.

Three more puffs followed, the pain coming not long after. Marco spun in place to see the marine drifting in line with the airlock, gun raised. Panic clenched Marco's chest before logic kicked in. He couldn't let the marine keep firing. His suit's warning lights were flashing, but it hadn't been burned through.

Marco grabbed the marine's line, braced his feet against the interior frame of the airlock door, and yanked. When the marine got close, still firing, Marco jammed the baton into his chest. Electricity arced up the marine's suit before he went limp, suit systems—and brain—temporarily short-circuited.

The airlock was a bit tight with two full-grown men in it. Once Marco disconnected the line and made sure the marine was still out, he closed the outer door and hit the button to open the inner one. While the detox protocol ran, Marco kept his thumb hovering over the stun button, just waiting for any sign of resistance from the marine, but he was down and out.

When the inner door unlocked, artificial gravity kicked in with a vengeance. Marco struggled for a few seconds, knees and spine remembering a planetoid with far less pull to it before Marco forced them to remember decades spent in a much harsher environment.

He shouldered the door open and then shoved the unconscious marine through. He heard a yelp and took that as his cue. He jumped over the first marine's legs, body melting into flame as he tackled the second man, who was only half in his jumpsuit. His lasers passed harmlessly through Marco's flaming wings. He never saw the stun baton in Marco's left claw coming and fell to the floor, muscles twitching.

Reforming, Marco leaned against the wall, vision spinning. Sweat soaked his brow, but he couldn't afford to pass out now. He staggered through the small main cabin, rifling through various crates before he found a few zip-ties and some cord. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than kicking them out the airlock. He wasn't about to kill two marines in cold blood.

They were so young.

Satisfied with their restraints, Marco left the two marines in the tiny loading bay, then locked the door for good measure, just in case they somehow managed to break free. Then he slid into the pilot's chair, an armful of emergency rations in his lap. He queued up the last few hours' audio logs while he munched his way to a stomach not trying to digest the rest of his internal organs.

Ace had made flying through the Grand Line seem easy. It wasn't as difficult as the higher-level simulation routes, but having all those massive rocks drifting by was unnerving. In the time it took him to reach his destination, Marco learned two things:

First: that, immediately after the sloop had exploded, the marines had sent their fastest ship out from a nearby patrol group to check out the detonated mines.

Second: that the marines had only swung by the moon because something had been throwing off extremely strange amounts of interference—that "something" undoubtedly being Marco. Apparently, his phoenix form refused to be understood by technology. It explained why his suit simply didn't process it, especially since the phoenix transformation also changed the suit itself.

When Marco came upon the wreckage of the sloop, he expected…Well, he didn't know what he expected. All he knew was that the sight of the scattered metal and debris carved out a hollow space in his chest. When all scans for life came back empty and attempts to ping Ace's suit only returned static, that space ached.

Heart like lead, Marco turned the ship around and plotted a route out of the Grand Line. This ship didn't have a map of all the mines, but Marco could only assume they weren't common close to the near edge, otherwise he and Ace would've been hit far sooner.

He cleared the last rock and opened up the nav computer. He could stop at Mainline, or, better yet, a nearby IPEC outpost to resupply and explain—

A light on the dash made him frown. He was being hailed? He opened up the channel.

"All right, you finally picked up." The man on the other end cleared his throat. "It is my great pleasure to announce that your ship is being seized. Don't resist; you're outnumbered and outmatched. Don't even think about a lightspeed jump, either. The second your engines so much as glow, we'll fire."

Pirates?

"As for how the boarding process is gonna go, well, don't worry. We'll handle the details. See you soon!"

The radio clicked and went to static. Marco sat back in his chair, mind spinning. Did he have the energy to fight off pirates? Could he fight off pirates? The only reason he'd triumphed over these two young marines was the element of surprise. Besides, he was pretty sure that if he tried to go full firebird again, he'd pass out.

What he would give for an overly-armed mercenary with a cocky attitude right about now.

The boarding was surprisingly uneventful. Marco was settled in his chair, watching the three ships that he could see stand guard in front of his commandeered vessel, when the ship jerked and a hollow boom echoed from the direction of the airlock. A few other thuds completed the symphony. Marco stood and leaned against the back of his chair, not trusting his legs to fully support his weight.

The inner door opened with a bang and three people in custom suits strode through. The first wore a black and blue suit, the second pink and orange, and the third white and green. There seemed to be no standardized outfit he could see.

"Are you the former owner of this vessel?" asked the man in front. Marco didn't answer, though he recognized the cadence from the radio. The man shrugged and nodded to his associates. "Search the place."

They disappeared into the cargo hold, only to reappear seconds later.

"There are two marines tied up in here," the pink one reported. A woman, judging by her voice. The blue one turned back to Marco, hands coming up to rest on his hips.

"Isn't that strange? And your suit…is that the IPEC logo?" He took a single step forward, one hand coming forward with a canister taken from his belt. The canister expanded, its bottom end ringing against the floor. The metal staff gleamed in the light. Marco braced himself. FlexTech could absorb a lot, but blunt weapons could do serious damage. He didn't want to test if he was immune to it if he didn't have to.

He forced himself to relax and raised his hands, palms up. "Why don't we talk this over yoi?"

Blue didn't move. "Yeah. Why don't we?"

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