by Athena Storm
“Just come back, will you? For me.” The moment it leaves my mouth I can hear it for the cliché that it is, but fuck it. I don’t want to lose her.
She doesn’t even nod. Her lips pull tight and she turns on her heel.
With a deafening crash, the ship jerks and swerves again, and I cling to the control panel to keep from being flung across the room. Rachel has faltered, but miraculously remains standing.
A screen flickers to life on the station I’m clutching and I hunch down close to see what I can make out. The images are intermittent, but I can read the diagnostic.
“Sir, the Odex cruiser is closing distance. Fast.”
“Tracer, get me that information on the pods NOW!” She makes for the door and I start after her. Yeats calls me down, “Moebius, maintain your station.”
“Sir,” I turn back to defy him, and the whole world splits open.
A sound like I’ve never heard before wrenches into me, and a shower of sparks and fire lick through the length of the bridge. In an instant, the entire bank of equipment opposite me vanishes. Cold surges in, and the ship careens over, spinning with the impact.
Rachel smashes into the wall not far from where I am hanging onto the station. A daze hangs on her and she begins to slide toward the gaping maw carved into the side of the ship. On instinct, I scream her name and kick my legs in her direction. Snapping to attention, she makes a scrabbling grab at my feet, but falls short.
Twisting onto her belly, I watch her clawing out for anything to stop her from sailing off into the black chill of space.
I want to let go. I want to slide after her and find something to save us.
Sirens are blaring and a wreckage far worse than anything I saw in Operations unfolds right in front of me. People I’ve known for years sail off into the darkness, looking unreal as they go limp against the dark eternity.
The emergency barriers deploy, rushing to fill the gash in our side, and I watch as Rachel slips through just before they secure. She’s gone.
All the horror and tumult of a moment ago settles instantly and I sink to the deck and drink in the unreality of it. The whole of the bridge is virtually empty. They’re all gone.
That same horrible smell of burning electronics floods the room as sparks and flames lick around the jagged edges of nearly everything. Watching smoke fill the room, I can’t feel anything. My body and my mind have both gone completely numb.
Without realizing I’ve risen, I find myself on my feet next to the command station. Still buckled into his chair is a good portion of Commander Yeats. He’s been split up the middle, but the blinding heat of the blast cauterized him in an instant, so a jagged black slice rakes through his bloodless chest.
His blue eyes are half open, and I ponder into them for an indeterminate amount of time.
A smaller blast rocks the vessel. Maybe it’s my dazed stance, but I stumble without going down entirely. Looking around the bridge, it suddenly occurs to me that I’m completely alone.
“Hello?” My voice hangs in the air unanswered until a low groan from far up in the foremost cockpit arrests my attention.
Snapping back to myself, I run to the far end of the bridge and squeeze into the tiny space.
It’s an unforgiving sight. The pilot is struggling to take his helmet off, seemingly unaware that it’s the only thing holding his skull together. His uniform is caked black with blood that seems to spill from every part of his body.
“What’s your name,” I ask him quietly. He gives up on his helmet. Turning his head toward me, it’s clear that he’s been blinded. His eyes are there, but they show no signs of apprehension.
“Riggs. My name is Riggs.”
“What’s your first name, Riggs?”
“William.” A fresh gout of blood dribbles out of his mouth.
“My name is Daphne.” He nods at this and we sit for a moment of quiet.
“How’s the ship,” he asks. It’s a small, sad move – he knows the shape we’re in.
“Not good, Riggs.” It’s as simple a statement as I can make. “I’m not sure she’s going to make it.
“Yeah,” he turns those sightless eyes back away from me, “me too.”
Five
Duric
I lean over the shoulder of my pilot, peering at his instrument read out.
“Is anyone on what’s left of that frigate alive?”
His fingers move in a near blur as he blinks sweat out of his eyes.
“Less than a dozen life signs, Commander, and most of those are fading fast. Their life support shields are holding in atmosphere, but just barely.”
To my shame, I feel some disappointment that there are still humans left alive over there. If there had been no survivors, I would have been free to retreat. Contrary to popular belief, we Vakutan do not believe in lost causes and will choose to live and fight another day if necessary.
But with lives in my charge that need protecting, my duty is clear. Like as not, we are going to attack the superiorly armed Odex ship directly.
“Redirect all non critical power to forward maneuvering thrusters.”
“Sir?”
“We’re going to be performing multiple pirouettes, Yeoman. Keep our photon array pointed directly at that ship when you take evasive maneuvers.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Not only will I be able to fire nigh-continuously with such a position, it will present the lowest profile possible to our Odex foes. At such close range, their targeting systems should have trouble tracking our much smaller shuttle.
It’s still a risky move. One good direct shot from just one of their two plasma arrays could still annihilate our Buzzard. But there is no choice. We have to fight, or stand by and watch innocent blood be spilled.
Not on my watch. This war has already consumed countless innocent lives. It’s led to the wholesale slaughter of millions of individuals from dozens of species by the Coalition before the Alliance was formed to stop it.
Not. Another. Life. Will. Perish.
Not if I can help it.
The Odex cruiser, seeming squat and all ugly angles, scoots around the ruined IHC freighter and tries to angle its considerable weaponry in our direction. Fortunately, my Yeoman is quite skilled. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to my crew manifest, so I would know the poor fellow’s name.
There’s no time to peek at it right now. The adrenaline of battle rushes through my body, lending a slight tremble to my hands as I punch in one targeting algorithm after another. I scope in on the most severely damaged portions of the Odex vessel, and then execute my attack plan.
Our photon array hisses in the darkness of space, lighting us up like a miniature sun as it sends solid light particles in a deadly stream toward the enemy ship. I have to be careful I don’t overheat the projectors, but by carefully alternating fire between my port and starboard arrays I can keep up a constant barrage.
I don’t score many direct hits, and damage is minimal but the photon discharge is wrecking havoc upon their sensor suite. Combined with our tricky but strategic maneuvering, it’s almost impossible for them to score a direct hit.
Things are going quite well, all things considered. If I had an hour, I could probably dance circles around the Odex vessel until I scored a hit on something critical or they chose to retreat. However, time is fleeting, as my Yeoman reminds me.
“Commander, the human freighter is breaking up. All but two of their life signs have been snuffed out. I calculate they won’t last another five minutes, if that.”
“Understood, Yeoman.”
Thoughts surge though my mind quicker than light. I could attempt to ram the Odex ship, selling myself and my crew to buy freedom for what’s left of the humans on the freighter, but then they would simply expire when their ship gave out at last.
One thing’s for sure. If I remain here plugging away at the Odex, they’re doomed.
But it’s no use. My weaponry is insufficient, reinforcements are too
far away even if they weren’t jamming our communications, and I’ve run out of options.
That’s when I spot the listing, debris strewn hulk of the broken off section of IHC freighter. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize it could be the potential for turning the tide.
“Yeoman, are the fuel cells within that broken off hunk of freighter still intact?”
“Sixty percent of them, Commander.”
“Excellent. Change course along this vector.”
As he inputs the commands, his jaw drops open with shock.
“That will put us directly in the line of fire of the Odex vessel.”
“I know Yeoman. In fact, I’m counting on it.”
He’s a good lad. Even though he’s terrified, he still obeys my command. We skirt around the drifting piece of wreckage until we are between it and the Odex vessel.
“The enemy ship is powering up their weapons.”
“I certainly hope so. Yeoman, prepare for a hyper space jump.”
“But Commander, that would take—“
“We aren’t going far, so the calculations will only take an instant. Put us about four hundred meters to their starboard side.”
“Yes, Commander. Course input.”
The Odex ship’s plasma batteries are surrounded by a chaotic green nimbus. Their commander must believe this is his best, possibly only shot to destroy us. Just what I’m counting upon.
“Steady.”
A bead of sweat drips down my Yeoman’s face, his finger trembling as it hovers over the execute function on his console. The nimbus grows larger, more wild as the battery builds up to an overload. He’s really taken the bait, even more committed than I’d planned. I just hope that my timing is perfect, or we’re all as good as dead.
“Steady.”
I’m waiting for a tell tale sign, a microburst of charged particles which proceeds a massive plasma outburst. We have to execute the superluminal hop at that precise instant, when they can no longer stop the firing sequence.
“Steady…now.”
My innards shift as we leap to super luminal speed, just for the briefest of instants. The Odex vessel stretches out to what seems infinity, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the cacophony of dizzying lights. Then we slow to sub luminal speed, safely out of reach of the Odex weaponry.
But their discharge still went off, smashing into the shattered hulk of the broken off section of human freighter. The longish hunk of twisted metal rotates under the pressure of the blast. Then, the intact fuel cells ignite, resulting in a globe of fire so bright both I and my pilot must turn our faces away from it. I can actually see my skeletal structure through my skin when I hold a hand in front of my tightly shut eyes.
The glow fades, and I quickly read the damage report.
“Ha.” I slam my fist into the console, reading critical damage all over the Odex ship. Propulsion, life support, and weapons systems are all down. I’ve succeeded in vanquishing a vastly superior foe. My ancestors will be dreaming of me tonight.
But then I see that my plan worked too well. The bright globe of infernal energy has faded in brilliance, but its ever expanding event horizon will soon envelop our Buzzard. Fuel is depleted, and we can’t make another light speed jump.
“All hands, brace for impact.”
I barely get my missive out when the globe smashes into our hull. The tiny Buzzard is cast about like a conventional ship on a storm tossed sea. Sparks fly from the cockpit, and I can hear cries of anguish and pain from the cabin behind us.
The damage read out is not good. Atmospheric shields are holding, but there’s a seven foot section of our aft hull that simply isn’t there anymore. Weapons are down, as is life support, but emergency systems have kicked in to provide a temporary respite from the ravages of space.
“Massive damage to our ship, Commander. We’re holding together, but just barely.”
“Where is the intact portion of the human freighter?”
“One kilometer to port, Commander.”
“Set in an approach vector so we may rescue the survivors, Yeoman.”
“Survivor, sir. There’s just one left.”
“Only one.” My sense of triumph fades. This is no real victory, to my estimation.
The explosion sent the human freighter’s bridge section reeling through space. We have to match our velocity and rotation to its own. Due to the weightlessness and lack of acceleration, it appears to our perspective that neither we nor the human vessel is moving at all, once we synchronize our movements with them.
A clear, flexible membrane extrudes from the aft section of our shuttle, bridging the vacuum of space to connect our two ships. I move through the cabin, noting that none of my cargo of officers have been badly injured. At least this entire mission hasn’t gone to oblivion. Their frightened, querying eyes get no response from me as I dash past them.
Once I leave our vessel through the cargo bay door, there’s no gravity to speak of. I float between the two ships, protected by our membranous tunnel.
Then my boots touch down on the human ship, and I make my way through what’s left of it. Bodies too twisted and mangled to be alive litter my path, and I see no signs of life until I reach the bridge.
A slender, dark haired human female is holding the hand of a warm corpse in the pilot’s chair. I have to shout several times before she finally turns to look at me. I believe she’s in shock.
“Come.” I gesture with my open hand and she remains still as a stone. “Come. Do you want to live or not?”
That seems to get through to her. She takes my hand and I quickly drag her along in my wake. As we race through the devastated human freighter, micro explosions rock its hull. Steam vents out into our path and I just growl and fold my body around the human woman to protect her. It burns, but not enough to blister.
Once back on my own shuttle, I continue to drag her along to the cockpit. She doesn’t resist as I secure her into a seat with crash webbing.
“Yeoman, any luck getting comms back on line?”
“No, sir, and we have another problem. The explosion knocked us hundreds of kilometers away from our original position. We’re caught in the gravity well of Taza IX.”
I growl low in my throat. Taza IX is a gas giant, the largest planet in this solar system. We’d be crushed by the pressure it its atmosphere before we even made it very far into the nimbus of swirling storms that make up its bulk. But, if I recall, it has more than seventeen moons.
“Yeoman, are any of the moons around Taza suitable to sustain organic life?”
“Yes, Commander. Aenexia is a forest world with no form of higher intelligent species but it is compatible with the biology of all on board. Including the human refugee, sir.”
“Can you get us there before the ship breaks up?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Try.”
I glance back at the human survivor. For a member of her weak species, she doesn’t seem too terribly ugly.
I hope you’re worth all of the trouble, woman.
Six
Daphne
Everything is shaking. Cascades of warning lights are blinking and a uniformed crew is dashing around, in a desperate bid to still them all and get the ship to rights. Tension is beginning to give way to full blown panic.
And I’m numb to it. It all has a quality of sameness about it – just like my own ship just, what? Minutes ago? It seems so absurd, so distant. As if it’s not even happening to me anymore. Aboard my own ship, terror was singing in my blood at every instant., but now? It’s like I’ve already died.
The scene is exactly the same. Except, in place of humans there are throngs of aliens struggling for survival. Mostly hulking Vakutan warriors, their ridged faces varying shades of grey and white. The odd Pi’rell darts among them, more delicate and fragile in their lithe movements. It’s like an odd kind of ballet.
Until the shaking gets worse.
That icy stone settles into my gut and the threa
ds of fear start to wind around me again.
I keep seeing Rachel. The dread in her eyes as she slipped lazily through the ravening maw of our ship and drifting into the abyss, just a second too late. If she had caught my leg, if she had managed to cling to something, even for a moment, the barricades might have caught her rather than shutting her out.
It’s too much.
The crew members of this Alliance ship are pushing past panic into sheer animal terror. It's ugly. Worse than ugly. Pitiful. When death is at the doorstep, all fear looks the same.
Riggs struggled and cried before he finally went still.
What will I do?
“Woman.”
The word hardly registers.
“Human woman.”
I look up and the Vakutan commander is reaching out to me. In this sea of frenzied activity, his feet are planted firm and he grows out of the deck like a tree. My hands push against the floor and I try to stand, but all the strength has gone out of my body and I keep slipping and slugging over onto my side.
With an exasperated grunt, this bulky alien storms over to me and wraps an arm around my waist, wrenching the air out of me as he yanks me from the floor. My arms and legs flail as he bundles me bodily across the cabin to a huddle of crew members.
On one of the screens, I can see some kind of vegetation rushing in a blur.
Still strapped to one of the stations, a lone Pi’rell is struggling with the control panel, watching as green fills the screen. He is screaming above the noise, then a word calls out above the rest.
“BRACE!”
The Commander muscles me tighter toward the center of the clutch of bodies and the press of flesh is overpowering. As though my bones might crack or my skin split from the pressure. If I had any breath of my own, I would join in the screaming.
The vessel rocks and bumps violently as it jolts into whatever tree line we are crashing into. With a sudden catch, the whole world lurches to the side and we spin over and over again, smashing against each other as we tumble wildly toward the ground.
