by T. Y. Carew
That was the plan, at least, and the mission as laid out between Simon’s brainy engineers and the crew of the Exemplar. Within a half hour of exiting FTL, it all went wrong.
Captain Ramos and Lieutenant Barnard found a suitable approach quickly. The asteroid they chose looked like an enormous bean, with a bend in the middle the Exemplar could tuck into. The Beltine mining operation was not yet visible, but that was the crew’s second objective. As several crew members examined their screens and cross-checked them against the charts, Dr. Cardew unbuckled and joined Captain Ramos and Lieutenant Barnard, head down, speaking to them quietly. Good thinking. A stretch was just what Simon wanted too. He undid his harness and stood up, the excitement jolting him like a massive infusion of caffeine.
“Sir,” Lieutenant Lawrence, the comms officer, said. “Receiving another hail from the Contessa.”
“Bring it up, please,” Simon said.
Ramos stood upright and said sternly, “Belay that.”
“Sir?” the comms officer asked.
Simon arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Is there some chance the Beltine might pick up the signal?”
Captain Ramos ignored him, and turned back to the charts. Dr. Cardew jabbed at something there, and he nodded.
“Hey!” Simon snapped. He stormed towards the captain, aware that behind him, Kingston was rising to his feet too. “I asked you a question.” Still, silence greeted him. Now beyond annoyed, he said to Lieutenant Lawrence. “Bring up the hail.”
“Aye, Mr. Dantos.”
Captain Ramos whirled on his feet. “Do that, and I’ll consider it an act of mutiny, Lieutenant. You have your orders. We are radio silent until I say otherwise.”
Simon was close enough now that he could reach out and grab Ramos’s shoulder. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Captain?”
A hand fell on his, the fingers like steel as they jerked his hand away from Ramos. Kingston. The sleepy-eyed giant looked down at Simon and said, “Don’t.”
Several of the other crew members were standing, a low buzz of confusion and anger rising. The rest sat at their stations, ignoring all of this. The bulkhead doors to the bridge thunked open, and in marched the security team as well as the extra crew members Simon had seen around the ship. They were decked out not with the stun batons they’d been equipped with for shipwide purposes, but laser pistols, rifles, and full protective gear. Someone shouted, and one of the guards leaped the rail to smack him in the jaw. It wasn’t much more than a slap, but the surprised man fell away as if he’d been punched.
Simon rounded on Kingston, but his bodyguard still had his fingers and whirled with him, bringing Simon’s hand behind his back and pulling upwards just far enough to put pressure on the bones in his shoulder.
“Any higher than that, and I break it,” Kingston said. “Don’t test me.”
Simon’s jaw clenched and he stared straight at Dr. Cardew. “This is you, isn’t it? What are you doing, Evelyn?”
She glanced up, her eyebrows arched almost as if she was surprised to see him there. “Oh. Simon, I apologize, but I hope you’ll see the necessity of this soon. We already had enough observational data from the mining operation to know there wasn’t anything we could really learn there. We’re about to get a bit more, ah, hands-on with our research.”
“You want to… you want to go down there? To the Beltine outpost?” Simon barked out a laugh. “You are beyond insane. Ramos, turn us around and I double your salary.”
Dr. Cardew slinked over to him, taking him in. “Every one of the people here with me have seen family and friends die at the hands of the Beltine. On Phoenix, Caprin, Ellinor.” She leaned in and murmured, “Earth. They’re not here for money, Simon. They’re here for a cause, and you will be too when you’ve seen what we can accomplish today. Something no one else has done. What no one else has even dreamed about.”
“What?” Simon choked out.
Cardew’s smile turned peaceful, dreamy. Her arms spread wide, she twirled slowly to face the big screen and the newly plotted course right to the heart of the Beltine mining operation. “We’re going to take an Anassos. Alive.”
***
The crew members and scientists who wouldn’t fall in line were guided down the hallway and into the mess hall, the biggest room apart from the bridge on the Exemplar. They’d been patted down, stripped of any potential weapons and comms equipment, and told to get on their knees. Simon closed his eyes, imagining he’d hear the split-second buzz of a laser pistol at any moment, but nothing came of it. The guards stepped back out into the hallway, sealed the mess doors, and that was that.
Chaos broke out immediately. The scientists and non-crew members fell against one another shouting questions and curses alike. Simon, now a little more certain he wasn’t about to die, at least in that moment, rose shakily to his feet. Beside him, Lieutenant Lawrence did the same. She was a stocky woman, with one eye that didn’t quite sit flush with the other. They’d had some time to play cards and work out together along the journey and he found her usually quiet and affable. Now she took charge, clambering on top of one of the tables and raising her hands to her lips.
“Settle. Down!” she bellowed. A few people obeyed and stared up at her, including some of her fellow crew members. They elbowed the ones still jabbering away and gestured up at her. “We don’t get out of this by losing our heads. Crew, sound off, last name and rank.”
Loyal Exemplar men and women did just that, and pushed forward through the ranks to face the civilian scientists. After that came the rest, giving their names and jobs aboard ship. It was a calming measure, and as Lawrence took control, Simon thought quickly. There were more prisoners than hostiles, but only a few had a military background. They had only twenty minutes until the Exemplar began its run to find a docking point on the Beltine mining station. It wasn’t nearly enough time to formulate a plan, escape, and take back the ship, if they even could.
Unless.
The solution, as much as it would have made Simon sick under other circumstances, was obvious. Eat crow and ask – beg, if necessary – the Contessa for aid. Simon climbed up on to the table too, helped by the lieutenant. He nodded at her gratefully, and turned to address the crowd.
“There’s help out there. You all know we’re being pursued by Matilda Adair and Xander Finlay. If anyone was ever capable of saving us…” Simon’s gorge rose as the necessity of what he was saying hit him. Oh, how he hated this. “…it’s them. But we need to tell them what’s going on. Does anyone still have a personal device? Maybe someone didn’t get patted down properly, or…”
“I do,” a quiet man said near the back. The rest parted for him, mumbling, and he stepped forward, dipping an arm down the neck of his jumpsuit and dragging out a small personal device. Red-faced, he mumbled, “I was, um, playing a game, sir, and I thought when the guards first came in, they were looking for someone transmitting when there was a ship-wide order not to, so I slipped the phone down my shirt and, erm, well…”
Simon snatched up the device and grinned down at the man. “It’s a damn good thing you did. Royce Payton, right? Water and air recirculation expert?”
The man perked up immeasurably. “You were paying attention, Mr. Dantos?”
“Didn't need to. I know everyone who's supposed to be on this ship. Wish I’d listened to myself when I thought I didn’t. Too late now.” Payton gave him his passcode, and Simon tapped away.
Dr. Cardew’s people had brought down the comms outside the ship, but kept interior communications open, leaving him a digital door to wedge through. Cardew thought the emergency systems would be tied to the exterior communications hub, but she was only half-right. Even with the shortcuts his engineers took on his ships, there was always a double-tiered emergency system available in case one set of comms or the other was knocked out. Maybe he couldn’t access the bridge or anything that would turn the Exemplar around, but Simon could get a message out, and he did, sweating profusely as he be
gan to speak.
“Contessa. Cardew has command of the Exemplar. She’s bringing us down to the Beltine mining facility with plans to try and take an Anassos alive. There are prisoners on board the ship here with me, lots of them.” Simon panned the camera slowly around the room, and brought it back to his face. “Everyone else is in her pocket. I know we’ve had our problems, but these people aren’t part of this. Save them. Save us. Please.”
One of the room’s doors opened, and Dr. Cardew bustled in, trailed by Kingston and two of the guards. She saw the personal device in Simon’s hand, and pointed to it. Kingston didn’t need to be told what to do. He stormed forward.
“Wait wait wait,” Simon begged him, hopping down off the other side of the table. Kingston sped up, put one hand on the table, and vaulted over it. His massive hand rose and Simon flinched, thinking his former bodyguard meant to punch him. Instead, he plucked the device from Simon and dropped it on the ground before stomping down and crushing it.
“Simon,” Dr. Cardew said. “I am not your enemy. Or anyone else’s in this room. I’m really not. I want your cooperation. I’ll need help on the station. Frankly, we don’t have enough people to keep the halls of that structure clear until we have the Anassos in our grasp. I’m even willing to arm anyone who agrees to assist me. Those who decide not to can remain here, locked up.” She turned and took in everyone in the room. “But if we don’t have the manpower we need and you choose to stay, you will be killed. Not by me, but by the Beltine. We are taking that station. Whether we can hold it or everyone dies on board here like caged rats is entirely up to you.”
Chapter 4
“Gee, Simon, who could have predicted Psycho Lady would go psycho?’” Drew asked no one in particular as he grimaced at the Contessa’s sudden spin. “The answer is absolutely everyone, you twit.”
“Keep the chatter down,” Xander snapped, focused on the split screen in front of him. Half of it showed footage from the camera under the turret, the other from an Adamanta eye on their wing focused on the Beltine base. Shaped like a horizontal honeycomb, the mining operation was free of fighters, but a dozen alien equivalents of freighters inched away from the base. If the crew of the Contessa let just one slip away, there was no telling how quickly a hive ship would return with reinforcements. Somewhere out there, too, were the Hayward and the Everett, taking down the buzzing Dairos fighters on the fringe of the asteroid belt. The Exemplar had hidden among the asteroids until the Contessa dropped out of orbit, then immediately charged the base. Cardew was well versed in military tactics and knew the Contessa would take care of any fighters and extraneous ships first before attempting a run on the base. The Contessa was their shield and their cover. Annoyingly clever, Matt thought.
Trey’s laser fire bore down on a freighter, tearing it nearly in half with a string of bursts across its stern. He whooped savagely, though Matt felt more and more unease with every confirmed kill. Something played at the edges of her mind. It wasn’t quite like the call of the Adamanta, not really, but close.
“Can you feel these freighters like the hive ships?” Xander asked her.
She shook her head. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I feel something, but I don’t think it’s coming from them.”
Tyra twirled the ship in another direction and shot towards the next freighter. Trey scorched the edge of the ship, but it wasn’t a direct hit.
“Brother, we do not have time for me to correct your mistakes,” she hissed.
“I got him,” Matt said, focusing on the Adamanta needles ready in small clips all over the ship. On her screen was the Adamanta sensor. She twirled it to face the limping freighter, and with a great mental push, fired the needle at it across the expanse. Though no bigger than her little finger, the needle punched through the hull of the freighter like it was a kinetic round. She could feel it ricochet off the walls inside, and pushed it further still, into the engines and other important equipment. The freighter listed in one direction and began a slow, methodical spin towards a massive asteroid.
Xander switched to a heat signature feed capable of weeding out organic life from the high levels of background radiation. “Confirmed kill, no Beltine left alive on board. Nice work, Matt.”
“No lecture about conserving my strength?”
Instead of reprimanding her, a corner of Xander’s mouth turned up into a tired smile. “Let’s get through the fight we’re in, and then we’ll worry about the fight ahead of us.”
“Got it.”
“And conserve your strength.”
The smartass comment she had on deck was lost as Tyra banked the Contessa into a long looping spin, chasing down a freighter disappearing around the edge of the Beltine base. They came so close to the structure that Drew actually sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.
We know you.
Matt gasped. The words had come from the Anassos over an intercom on Alton Three, word for word, and now they tickled the back of her mind, fading quickly as the Contessa fell away from the mining station.
We know you.
“Boss,” she said, rubbing at her forehead.
The guns fired again, and Trey hissed his satisfaction as another freighter was blown into pieces.
“Marking the next target, Tyra,” Xander said, and the Contessa shifted course almost immediately.
Matt realized she’d been whispering and spoke louder. “Xander.”
“Yes?”
“There’s a powerful Anassos on the station. That’s what I’m feeling.”
He glanced sharply at her. “You’re sure?”
Matt nodded, grimacing. “It’s speaking to me. Or it was, when we got close to the base. I don’t know how, but it was.”
Matt knew Xander had his own nightmares about the Anassos. One had captured him and Captain Pharo Johnson. The other man had died horribly right in front of Xander, and the colonel had nearly been killed by an Anassos' mental spike. That she was hearing one's voice right then certainly would give him pause.
“Just another reason to turn this place into scrap once we get Simon’s people out,” Xander said, but she noticed his face went several degrees paler.
Tyra poured on the speed, bringing the Contessa in a wide arc that gave Trey an almost unfairly easy shot against the broadside of the freighter. The next two tried to hide in a cloud of particulates, but Xander had them on his screen and guided Trey’s guns remotely, locking the reticles not on the ships but the space they were about to occupy. One went down, the other was only winged, but Xander must have nicked their engines. Their heat signatures ramped up exponentially and within another twenty seconds the Beltine freighter cannibalized itself in a brief bright dot of light on their screens.
Drew grinned over at him as he sat back, exhaling in relief. “Lucky.”
“You saying I didn’t mean to do that?” Xander frowned at his screen. “They’re getting smarter, Tyra. Splitting in three directions all at once and gaining speed.”
“Overlay it on the corner of my monitor,” she said back. Xander brought up the video feeds capturing the Beltine freighters escaping as well as a trajectory path for each of them through the asteroid belt.
“Hurry,” her brother hissed.
“Really, Trey?” Tyra snapped back, tapping her monitor and spinning the trajectory path to show her a few different angles.
“Children,” Matt muttered, “let’s not fight.”
Tyra enhanced the trajectory path, drew a line, erased it, and drew another one. “Got it,” she said. As she spun the Contessa, she glanced aside at Trey. “Shall I tell you the obvious, too? ‘Get your trigger finger ready?’”
As Trey muttered under his breath, the Contessa took a reverse gyre-like approach to the three fleeing freighters. The first target was the most distant, as it had built up the most speed and posed the most imminent danger. Their laser fire danced across its aft until Trey centered on its thrusters. The bright gleam made for an inviting target, one he took full advantage of, and the frei
ghter into scrap no bigger than a fist.
“Second ship is changing course, I won’t be able to give you a good angle,” Tyra told Trey. “Matt, I’ll get you close.”
“Got it.”
They arced back in the general direction of the mining base. Tyra began to spin the Contessa so her turret had a clear shot on one escaping freighter while Matt tried to lock onto the other with her Adamanta eyes. Against the glitter of a metallic asteroid behind it, she almost didn’t spot it, but when she had it, she didn’t look away, didn’t dare blink.
“Matt,” Tyra warned. “Almost out of range.”
“I know,” she said. No time for precision. She gathered up six needles and punched them out in a fan. The spray would have been too wild if she couldn’t maintain control over the needles with her mind. Gritting her teeth, Matt guided them back. This far out and at the speed the needles were traveling, the headache was near instantaneous but Matt couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. She had only a second or two before they were out of range entirely. Fingers digging into her armrests, she readjusted the trajectory of two, pushing them straight and adding just a bit more punch to their speed, gasping as her headache turned into a sudden, insistent pounding. Then the needles were too far gone to do anything but hope, and she stared into her monitor.
The freighter creeped away. On the video feed, it seemed to move like a slug, but in reality, it was picking up speed exponentially and they had maybe three, four minutes tops before it was out of the Contessa’s range. It could jump to FTL or disappear among the asteroids and they could do nothing about it. Matt's needles were only visible thanks to digitized outlines. Three were a definite miss, spraying out too far to even come close. One careened off something unseen, particulates or a chunk of rock, most likely. But two crept ever closer to the freighter, The Contessa vibrated as Trey’s guns took down the other freighter, but Matt hardly noticed. Beside her, Xander drew in a deep breath as the needles neared their target – and bored inside.
