“We’ve got company!” Radge said.
Jason’s map flashed with a shoal of red dots. Arachnid interceptors were catching up with him.
The tunnel lit with streams of blaster bolts. His piloting skills were tested to their limit. He dodged the blaster fire while trying not to brush the walls of the tunnel or the appendages protruding from it.
“I’m dry,” Red Jack said.
“Me too,” Radge shouted.
That meant they had no missiles left and had to rely on their blasters.
The Arachnids rushed in numbers to intercept Jason. A bolt hit one of the Katana’s wings. “Blaster barrage!” Jason yelled.
Radge and Red Jack fired without pause, their blasters on overload. Destroyed Arachnids smashed against the walls in a staccato of explosions.
The tunnel grew wider, and Jason got visual on his target—a smooth pillar-like structure, as Adrian had described it. Jason launched a conventional epsilon. It exploded before reaching the structure, intercepted by countermeasures.
Jason swore and armed another missile. To defeat the countermeasures, he needed to fire it pointblank. He stepped on the accelerator and rocketed toward the pillar. The missile lock icon flashed—an Arachnid had shot an alpha at him.
He jolted to the side to dodge the missile. It exploded against the wall of the tunnel and sprayed his Katana with shrapnel. Another red icon lit up, warning him that the starfighter had sustained damage.
He launched a second conventional epsilon. This time, the missile scored a hit. Through the smoldering hole in the pillar’s armor he made out the luminescent matter of the ship’s artificial brain.
Now or never!
The outcome of the battle, and the fate of the entire fleet depended on his skills. If he missed, it would be over.
The fate of mankind rests on my shoulders. No pressure.
He held his breath and fired the last “special” missile.
* * *
Riley gave the signal and charged, followed by Mortensen, Kwan Kor, and his officers. She heard shouts as the Earthists rushed to their positions. Mortensen threw a smoke grenade into the corridor. Riley could see the hostiles even through the smoke thanks to the multispectral sensors implanted in her eyes.
She shot the silhouettes moving through the fog in stun mode. Any one of them still standing was downed by Mortensen. She was glad to have that elite warrior covering her back.
The two of them thrust through the Earthist defenses and sprinted to the bridge. They’d already covered more than half of the distance when a blast door blocked their way. Riley had to hack the control panel to open it, while Mortensen covered her.
The Earthists chose that moment to launch a counterattack. They were coming through lateral corridors from two directions, and even Mortensen struggled to repel their assault. Several rounds struck his vest, and he had to take cover. Although bullets couldn’t punch through protective vests, they could still cause blunt trauma and internal bleeding.
Kwan Kor’s people arrived at that moment and repelled the counterattack, forcing the hostiles to retreat, but also taking casualties in the process.
Once the blast door opened, Mortensen threw another smoke grenade into the corridor, and the security officers rushed through.
“Wait!” Riley shouted, but it was too late.
The air filled with the rattle of a heavy automatic weapon and the screams of Kwan Kor’s people. Riley recognized the sound of a gas-operated machinegun, a primitive, but effective weapon developed by Multan’s fighters.
Once the rattling of the machinegun stopped, she glanced at the corridor leading to the bridge. It was carnage. The corpses of security officers littered the floor. The Earthists had their revenge.
“They blocked the corridor with a barricade,” Riley shouted to Mortensen. “The machinegun is just behind it.”
The marine jerked a nod. “Stun grenade out!”
He hurled the grenade with remarkable accuracy, and it landed right behind the barricade. The blast hit Riley’s eardrums even through her helmet.
Her ears buzzing, she rushed into the corridor and sprinted to the barricade. The hostiles were incapacitated, but suddenly the machinegun came back to life and spewed a stream of bullets.
Riley screamed, tripped, and bit the deck. Although her bulletproof vest saved her life, the impacts of machinegun bullets hurt like hell. She wondered how many of her ribs were broken.
The machinegun must be operated remotely, she realized.
Mortensen pounced on the barricade. Several bullets struck his chest while he was airborne. As he landed, he grabbed the machinegun and pointed its muzzle at the ceiling.
Riley staggered to her feet. Her implants released a painkiller into her bloodstream, together with a dose of adrenaline. Her bones could break, but she would still fight.
Mortensen’s vest was bloody; one of the bullets must have gone through.
“Stay down,” she told him. “You’ve done everything you can. I’ll finish this.”
She hobbled to the bridge, stepping over the bodies of incapacitated Earthists. She unlocked the door to the room where the hostages were held. They were slumped on the floor or against the wall, unconscious but unharmed. Her plan seemed to have worked.
Now she needed to take the bridge. Her scanners showed four Earthists waiting in ambush behind a barricade. She could see them even through the walls. The rest were on the floor.
Riley drew a deep breath and rushed forward. She rolled on the ground as bullets whistled overhead. Her blasters were almost out of energy, and every shot counted. She took out two Earthists and kept on rolling to make herself a difficult target.
Her third shot missed, and now one of her blasters was out. She dropped it, took cover behind a console, and clenched her remaining blaster with both hands. An Earthist dashed from behind the barricade to flank her while the other provided covering fire. This tactic could have worked on a less experienced soldier, but not on Riley. She leaped to the side and shot the first Earthist, then fired her last bolt on the remaining hostile.
Missed.
He ducked behind the barricade. Riley heard a click indicating he was reloading his submachine gun. She dropped her blaster and sprinted. Before the Earthist could take aim, she kicked his weapon, grabbed him and hurled him against the wall.
Sharp pain paralyzed her. Even the drugs her implants secreted couldn’t suppress the pain from her wounds.
“Freeze.”
Riley turned her head slowly. Adisa had feigned being incapacitated, and now she crept behind her, aiming a blaster at her head.
“Don’t do that, Adisa,” Riley pleaded. “It’s over. You have to surrender.”
“I know you’ve a knife under your sleeve,” she hissed. “Old habits. Take it out and drop it. Slowly.”
“Please, surrender. I promise you a fair trial. I never wanted to harm you or any of your followers. I respect your beliefs, even though I don’t share them. When DeCourt ordered me to assassinate your husband, I refused. He put me in the brig for that, but I don’t care. I did the right thing. You have to trust me.”
Adisa shook her head. “I’ve gone too far, Riley. It’s too late for me. Too late to back down.”
A blaster shot reverberated through the bridge. Adisa dropped her handgun and collapsed on the floor. Kwan Kor appeared in the doorframe, a Wells-9 in his hand.
Riley dashed to Adisa and examined her wound. The blaster bolt had pierced her vest and perforated one of her lungs. She was doomed.
“Why?” Riley yelled at Kwan Kor. “You could’ve stunned her.”
He remained silent, as if that question didn’t merit an answer.
Adisa’s shaking hand moved toward the holo-projector on her belt. “All my life…I lived in a desert,” she whispered. “I wanted to see…the forest…in my husband’s dream…”
Riley understood. She pulled the holo-projector and activated it. The bridge vanished, and they were transported into t
he woods. Sunrays streamed through the canopy. The chatter of birds filled the air. Riley could almost smell the fragrance of herbs, taste the fresh tang of the wilderness.
“I wanted to see…Earth…with my own eyes,” Adisa breathed, a single tear streaking down her cheek. “It’s…so beautiful…”
Her eyes froze.
Riley could no longer hold back tears. She’d never wept in her entire life. Not when the internment camp had been annihilated, not when she’d lost comrades to the war with the Taar’kuun, not even when the human worlds had fallen.
Adisa had been her first friend. Maybe her only friend.
She leaned over Adisa’s body and wept, oblivious to Kwan Kor’s stare. At that moment, she was no longer a fearless soldier, a model officer, or an invincible bionic. She was only a human being who had seen more than her share of suffering.
She wept for everyone and everything that had been lost. She wept for mankind.
35
The darkest hour
Adrian entered the excavation area, Talia by his side, and escorted by a squad of marines. The ruins of the Oneiroi settlement were quiet. A faint glow emanated from its center, a circular structure that looked vaguely like an ancient Greek theater bordered by columns.
“The resemblance with the architecture of ancient Greece is uncanny,” Adrian said to Talia in low voice. “I even recognize the style—look at those ionic columns.”
“Why are we whispering?” Talia asked.
Adrian shrugged. “It’s a sign of respect, I suppose. Like when you enter a cathedral. Millions of years of history are buried here.”
“I don’t mean to press you, but there’s a battle raging above our heads,” Talia pointed out. “Let’s find Ophelia, if she’s there.”
Adrian nodded and moved forward. “Oh, she is here. She led me to this place. Look at the ivy around those columns. It’s a Terran species. The Taar’kuun imported it from Earth and used it as part of their bioforming process. We had the same species in the botanical garden on Olympica. Ophelia loved to sit in the belvedere, surrounded by ivy, and read.”
They walked in silence amid ancient stones. It grew brighter as they approached the circular structure.
Ophelia was standing in the middle of a garden, clad in a white dress. She looked unreal, ghostlike. An apparition.
“I destroyed all my research on the anti-Taar’kuun virus,” Adrian told her in lieu of a greeting. “As you wanted.”
She turned her angelic face to him. The curls of her golden hair gleamed in the semi-darkness. If she was happy to see him, she didn’t show it. Her expression was serene. “I know, father. I know how difficult that decision was. I’m proud of you.”
She looked eighteen, and it was difficult to believe she was only three years old. Physically, she hadn’t changed much since their separation. Nevertheless, Adrian felt that something in her had changed in a subtle, yet profound way. This realization came with a pang of sadness. His Ophelia, the girl he raised as if she were his daughter, existed only in his memory.
Now that he finally found her, he realized how much he’d lost. The only person who had given meaning to his life was no more.
“Ma’am, where’re the Biozi guards?” the sergeant leading the squad asked, nervously glancing around. He probably expected an ambush.
“I put them to sleep,” Ophelia replied.
“How did you manage that?” Talia asked.
Ophelia gave her a little smile. “I have my ways. Look around you; what do you see?”
Talia’s gaze slid across the columns and the plants. Her eyes narrowed, as if looking for a hidden clue.
“I see ruins, grass, shrubs, flowers… It’s all lovely, but…”
“This planet is alive,” Ophelia said. “The Oneiroi used to live in harmony with Chloris. Now the Taar’kuun are trying to kill it, but they will fail.”
She raised her hands, like a conductor preparing to direct an orchestra.
The artificial cave came to life. Adrian suddenly realized it was no cave, and the stones around them were not ruins. The facility was still functional. The ancient machines built by the Oneiroi had never died; they’d been asleep, waiting for the one who would awaken them.
* * *
Jason launched the missile. It went through the hole in the pillar’s armor and hit the artificial brain of the Biozi base ship.
“Yee-haw!” he shouted. “Direct hit! Primary objective completed. I repeat, primary objective completed!”
He turned his Katana into a lateral tunnel, reached a hangar, and slipped through its open doors, leaving the Ouroboros.
A sinking feeling tugged at his stomach when he heard the conversation on the op channel.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “I delivered your precious missile, now what?”
“All fighters, withdraw,” Winsley ordered. Even now, with the base ship crippled, the Taar’kuun had enough firepower to crush the ASF fleet.
Two Biozi escort destroyers headed straight toward Jason. The Arachnids were dispersing.
“Get out of here!” he yelled to the survivors of his wing. “Full speed!”
He punched the afterburner. Blasts ignited the air around him. Streams of bolts from quick-firing blasters caught his Katana in their nets.
Pain exploded in his back. His arms convulsed, and he lost control of his craft. The cockpit was burning.
He punched the eject button; nothing happened. The ejection system was offline.
The automatic fire extinguishers thrust cold gas into the cockpit. The fire died out, but the starfighter had been damaged beyond repair. The main generator, the thrusters, and the controls were all fried. Energy shields and repair systems were down too. Jason knew he hadn’t reached escape velocity, so his craft would fall into the gravity well of Chloris and burn upon atmospheric reentry.
He looked at the picture above the control panel. His dead wing mates were still smiling at him. The corners of the pic were now blackened by flames.
Five years of fighting and hardship, five years of struggle and sacrifice… For what?
The base ship was moving away. Above it, space flashed with deadly fireworks as the Biozi ships engaged what remained of the human fleet.
Silence was so complete Jason could hear the beating of his heart. Comms were down, and the humming of the engine had stopped. He wondered what would kill him; his injuries, lack of oxygen, hypothermia, or atmospheric reentry. He didn’t care.
The battle is lost, and so is the war. So is mankind.
* * *
Streams of light converged toward Ophelia. She moved her hands swiftly, and the streams bent, twirled, and changed color in response to her gestures.
“You can control Oneiroi technology?” Adrian asked.
“I can communicate with the Oneiroi, and they explained to me how to operate their bio-machines,” she replied. “These machines have been dormant for eons, kept alive by their symbiotic relationship with Chloris.”
“I knew you wouldn’t lead us into a trap,” Adrian said. “You have a plan in mind.”
Ophelia’s blue eyes shone as she looked at him, and, underneath her apparent serenity, he sensed a sea of emotions stirring inside her. “This is a trap. Not for the Alliance fleet; for Raak’naar’s forces. We will liberate the galaxy from the Taar’kuun, starting here on Chloris.”
A bright slit in the ceiling grew wider to form a circular opening. Through it, Adrian saw the mountain towering above the facility, and the Biozi base ship hanging above.
“I need your help, father. You studied Chloris; you know it better than I do.”
“This mountain is a bio-volcano,” Adrian explained. “Instead of magma, it contains a huge quantity of biomatter. This biomatter is released into the atmosphere as part of the natural lifecycle. The Taar’kuun muzzled it, and the biomatter has been building up.”
“What happens if all this biomatter is released at once?” Ophelia asked.
Adrian balled his fi
sts, pressed them together, then quickly opened his fingers. “Boom! Explosive polymerization. Just like a regular volcano eruption, but this one will be spewing solidified biomatter instead of lava.”
Ophelia’s fingers flitted in the air, making the light around her swirl like a whirlpool. The ground quaked so violently Adrian and his companions had to lean against the columns to stay on their feet. Ophelia, on the other hand, seemed unaffected, as if different laws of physics applied to her body.
The top of the volcano exploded, hurling slabs in all directions. Stones bounced against an invisible forcefield that protected the facility.
Amid clouds of dust, a monumental green spike sore skyward.
The Biozi base ship lit up its thrusters to dodge, but they died out half a second later, probably shut down by the virus Adrian had designed, delivered by Jason.
The spike smashed into the Ouroboros and ripped through its carapace. The biosynthetic materials the ship was made of seemed to melt in contact with the biomatter projected by the volcano.
The ship’s guns turned toward the spike and fired pointblank. In response, gigantic branches extended from the spike and coiled around the ship. They squeezed and crushed entire sections, liquefied its systems, and silenced its blasters.
Escorting ships fired at the branches, slowing down their growth and severing them.
“Dr. Darus to the ASF fleet,” Adrian called on the op channel. “You need to engage the escort ships. Now!”
“Copy, Dr. Darus,” Winsley acknowledged. “All battlegroups, set course on the base ship and engage the designated targets. Fire at will!”
Volleys of missiles converged to the Biozi fleet. The escort ships created a defensive barrage, but several missiles got through. The sky flashed with explosions.
“That’s it—the moment of truth,” Adrian whispered. “Today we win or we die.”
A swarm of Biozi dropships swooped down on the facility, surely to land troops and capture Ophelia. Raak’naar must have realized she was the cause of his reversal of fortune.
“Ophie, can you disable the flagellar rotors of the dropships?” Adrian asked. “If you coat them with spores, they’ll be too heavy to spin, and the dropships will fall like stones.”
Battlegroup Vega Page 25
