The Cagayan de Oro blasted forth, moving at millions of kilometers per second.
Leona was back in her body, in her seat, rubbing her temples. She had done this jump a thousand times.
But this time the dreams didn't end.
There were basilisks around her.
Leona frowned. She shook her head wildly, struggling to banish the vision. She must be stuck in another time or place, gazing upon a past or future battle. Yet the serpents seemed so real. They slithered toward her, hissing, reaching out claws.
"Leona …" They licked their chops. "Die …"
"Basilisks aboard!" Tom cried, leaping from his seat.
And Leona realized: This was no dream.
Tom drew his weapon first. He fired his rifle, and a basilisk fell, neck spurting blood.
Leona grabbed Arondight, her own rifle.
A basilisk lunged toward her.
She fired.
She tore off the basilisk's head in a shower of red mist.
From the hold, ten more of the creatures crawled toward her.
"How the hell did they get aboard?" Tom shouted, firing again.
"During the assault at Earth!" Leona said. "The buggers must have squeezed through the exhaust pipes."
She fired Arondight again, taking out another serpent. But most of the basilisks made it to her and Tom. Two of the aliens lunged. Leona blasted one full of bullets, but the second slammed into her, shoving her against the yoke. The Cagayan de Oro careened.
The basilisk wrapped around Leona, beginning to constrict her. She yowled, struggling, unable to free herself. The beast pinned her arms—and her rifle—to her sides. Nearby, Tom was writhing in the grip of another basilisk. More of the alien snakes crawled on the ceiling, their saliva dripping to burn Leona's head.
"You are far from the blockade," hissed the creature constricting her. "Far from the petty alliance. Die now … in darkness …"
The beast tightened. Leona's ribs creaked. Tears sprang into her eyes.
Inside the scaly cage, she managed to pull her trigger.
Her bullet grazed her thigh, shattering the cast around her broken leg.
The basilisk screamed too—the bullet burst out from its body with a spray of blood and broken scales.
The beast released her. Ignoring the agony in her leg, she fired again and again. The basilisks shattered around her.
Her bullets tore through the basilisk encasing Tom. He wriggled his way free, drew a blade, and slammed it into a basilisk jaw. The creature pulled back, and Tom aimed his gun and fired twice. His bullets pierced the creature's eyes. Back at the colony, Leona had boasted of being a better shot. She had to admit: she was beginning to doubt that.
A crimson basilisk dangled from the ceiling. Leona raised her rifle to fire, and another basilisk lunged and closed its jaws around her arm. She bellowed, fired upward, and slew the basilisk above. The jaws tightened around her arm. The fangs pierced her flesh. She screamed, unable to free herself. More basilisks were leaping onto Tom, and one wrapped around his rifle.
Leona yowled, spun around, and kicked. Her boot hit the thruster lever. The Cagayan de Oro lurched through space, afterburner blazing.
The rapid acceleration knocked the basilisks off Tom and Leona. They raised their rifles as one. They fired on automatic, bullets tearing holes through the floor, bulkheads, and basilisks. The aliens screeched, dying in the meat grinder. When they tried to rise, Leona kicked the thruster again, knocking them back down.
Another magazine—and it was done.
The creatures lay dead across the deck, a few tails still twitching. Smoke rose from hundreds of holes across the ship. Thankfully, the engine and hull were shielded. Most everything else was shattered.
Leona sank back into her seat.
"Mucking hell," she muttered. "Sneaky buggers."
Tom stood, staring down at the corpses. Wounds bled on his arms. There was a coldness to his eyes. A hard, heartless steel. It unsettled Leona. She had always known Tom to be kind, soft-spoken, a man who loved music and grass and sunshine. Yet now she saw a rawboned killer, death in his eyes.
This is the man who slew countless basilisks as he carried me back to the colony, she thought. This is the man who served in the Peacekeepers Corps, crushing rebellions. Who assaulted a gulock and fought in the pits of its hell. There are two Tom Shepherds. One whom I love. Another who scares me.
"Tom," she said softly. "Tom, let me tend to your wounds. Tom. Do you hear me?"
He looked up at her, and his eyes refocused. He suddenly seemed startled, as if he had been in another reality.
He nodded. "Yes. I'm fine. We should do a sweep of the lower decks, make sure no other basilisks made it aboard. We—"
Below, among the corpses, one of the serpents moved.
Both Tom and Leona raised their rifles.
The basilisk's body was ripped open. And Leona saw machinery inside. Cables. A ticking mechanism. Soft pods filled with powder.
Her eyes widened.
He's loaded with explosives.
The dying basilisk glared at the two humans.
"The mighty Ssstchkssshs race will rise," the creature hissed. "The goddess Xerka will rule the galaxy. Humanity will perish!"
A spark ignited inside him.
"No—" Tom began, leaping onto the basilisk.
Leona activated her time twister.
The implant flared inside her skull, searing her.
Around her, time slowed, nearly stopping entirely.
The pain was impossible. Hammers pounded in her skull. The implant, which changed her perception of time, thrummed and overheated, nearly cracking. Leona cranked it up to its maximum capacity.
She used the implant rarely—to dodge bullets or blades. What use was it here?
She looked around her, trying to focus through the pain. Tom was leaping through the air, arms outstretched, about to flatten himself on the basilisk. He seemed to hang in the cabin. Inside the snake, the explosives had begun to detonate. The first seeds of fire and shrapnel were already flaring out, ripping through the alien, about to rip into Tom—and then the rest of the ship.
Tom was trying to sacrifice himself. But Leona knew it wouldn't be enough.
She screamed as the pain twisted her head.
What do I do? How do I stop this?
The explosion kept rippling outward. She could see the shock wave in the air. The shrapnel was flying closer, moving at supersonic speed. To her, it seemed like slow motion.
I need to drag the snake out the airlock!
But it was too late.
The explosion was progressing.
The first bits of shrapnel grazed Tom's chest.
Leona couldn't delay. She perceived herself moving at normal speed. To Tom, she would appear to be moving like lightning. She grabbed him and yanked him away from the explosion, saving him by a split second.
More shrapnel flew toward them. Fire raged.
She had to flee the bridge! She would never make it. Damn it.
The shrapnel kept advancing. Leona ducked, dodging a piece of metal. Another bolt flew toward Tom's head. Leona pulled his head, and the metal sliced through his hair.
Another piece of shrapnel.
Leona pulled Tom aside, saving his arm.
Another piece.
She leaped, saving her foot.
Ten more pieces of shrapnel flew toward them like bullets.
Leona winced and twisted her body, pulling Tom with her, trying to dodge as many shards as she could.
She managed to escape most, to protect their heads and torsos.
One shard, a metal sliver no larger than a grain of rice, sliced through Tom's thigh. Another piece sank into Leona's shoulder, and she yowled.
A thousand more shards came flying toward them, rippling the air.
The entire starship was about to crack open.
Leona gritted her teeth. Her control was slipping. Her time twister was about to shatter.
Sh
e roared. And she ran the gauntlet.
Pulling Tom with her, she leaped, dodged, swayed around the shrapnel. She kept adjusting Tom's body. She ripped the metal lid off a dashboard and swung it like a shield, diverting more pieces of shrapnel.
A few pieces hit them, searing with agony, and their blood sprayed in slow motion. Each piece was tiny, much smaller than bullets, but moving with such speed that it ripped through skin and muscle.
Bleeding but still alive, they made it off the bridge.
As she was running through the hold, she heard the bridge break open behind them. Heard the air whooshing out into open space.
Her skull was about to crack.
Fire was roaring toward her like a tidal wave.
She reached the airlock. She grabbed two spacesuits, pulled one on, pulled Tom into the other.
The fire filled the Cagayan de Oro's hold. The hull tore.
The entire ship was coming apart.
Screaming, Leona leaped out of the airlock, pulling Tom with her.
She ignited her jetpack and roared into the distance, releasing her time twister.
Normal speed resumed. Behind them, the Cagayan de Oro exploded.
The fire raged behind him. Shrapnel peppered their armored spacesuits, scratching the graphene plating.
Leona flew faster, nearly passing out, fleeing the inferno.
Finally the light died. Breathing heavily, Leona spun back toward her beloved Cagayan de Oro, her ship, her home away from home.
It was gone. Nothing but a cloud of debris.
"How—?" Tom began, floating beside her. "What—Where am I?"
Several minutes had passed for Leona. Just a split second for him.
Leona grimaced. "Time twister. Even worse than a jump to warped space."
They floated through the darkness. Two wounded, lost souls. Space spread around them, an emptiness that stretched for light-years. Inside their spacesuits, they were wounded. Maybe badly.
And Leona realized: We should have stayed in the starship. We should have enjoyed a quick death. We will die slowly, in agony, over days.
They floated in space, marooned, millions of kilometers from the nearest world.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rowan fired the warship cannons, pounding the enemy.
"The damn snakes are everywhere!" she shouted.
"I know!" Bay shouted back.
"Fly faster!" Rowan said.
Bay groaned. "I'm trying, Row!"
The ninety human ships hurtled forth through space, firing their guns. Eighty-nine ships. Then eighty-eight.
The basilisk warships pursued through the darkness, carving the human fleet with their laser beams. They were light-years away from any star, but the battle lit the darkness.
"I thought we had a damn ceasefire!" Bay shouted, struggling with the Byzantium's yoke.
"We do!" Rowan cried. "In Earth's orbit. This is no man's land."
"I could live with no men," Bay said. "It's the damn snakes that bug me."
A laser hit them. The Byzantium was a full-sized frigate, the largest class of ship in the human fleet. Her shields were thick, and they held. But the ship jolted, nearly hitting the warship off their starboard bow. Another few blasts, and even the mighty Byzantium would explode.
"Bay, raise the port side!" Rowan cried.
He pulled the yolk, rolling the frigate. Rowan sneered and fired the port side cannons. Her shells pounded into a Rattler, demolishing the basilisk warship. Its plates of scaly armor flew through space, peppering nearby ships. But more Rattlers flew in to replace it. Lasers pierced the darkness, picking off another human ship, then another.
Ships Rowan needed.
Ships to find humans and bring them home.
But at this rate, all Rowan would find out here was an early death.
"Coral!" Rowan turned toward the weaver who sat nearby, wrapped in a blanket. "Coral, damn it. I need you to make another wormhole—now!"
Coral raised her head. She gave Rowan a blank look. Her eyes were sunken, and her face seemed to have aged a decade overnight.
"I'm too weak." Coral struggled to raise her mug of tea, took a sip, and grimaced. "I used too much aether to get us here. It will be days before I can use more."
Rowan tugged her hair with frustration, then returned to blasting the enemy. For the first few hours of their journey, things had gone well enough. Clearly, a few hours of grace was too kind of the universe.
"More Rattlers coming in from ahead!" Bay said.
Rowan cursed, shifted to the prow's cannons, and opened fire. She destroyed a Rattler. Another human cargo hull exploded. Copperheads were now flying in, smaller than Rattlers and harder to hit. Their lasers sliced decks off a human tanker.
We can't beat them all, Rowan knew.
"Bay!" she shouted. "Turn left!"
He groaned. "What, you saw an exit to a Quiznos?"
"Bay, shut up and yaw left! Head toward that dwarf planet!"
They had detected the world a while back—a rogue planet, not tethered to any star. The rock was rolling through space, a thousand kilometers wide. Not huge as far as planets came. No larger than Pluto. But right now, it would do nicely.
You're a big, fat boy, Rowan thought, seeking the planet in the distance. And you'll make a big boom.
"Rowan, that planet is a giant, lifeless, airless chunk of frozen rock," Bay said. "What can we possibly do there?"
"Blow it up," Rowan said.
Another laser pounded them. The Byzantium shook. Outside, the other ships were trading fire.
"What?" Bay said, jaw dropping.
"Well, not all of it!" Rowan said. "Just bits of it. Here's the plan. You know the slingshot maneuver?"
Bay nodded. "Yeah. Also called a gravity assist. That's when a starship flies around a planet or star, close enough for the gravity well to grab it—and hurl it off into the distance at insane speed. Like the universe's largest slingshot."
"Yep!" Rowan said. "Spock pulled it off in Star Trek IV. We're gonna slingshot the shit around that planet. All of us. And just before we hurtled off into the distance like a cork from a champagne bottle? We drop our nukes. We raise a massive cloud of dust and debris from the planet surface. The Rattlers will follow us—and get pelted."
Bay sighed. "Rowan, you're mucking insane, you know that?"
She fired her aft cannons, pounding another Rattler. "I know. And that's why you love me. Now fly! Slingshot us around that bitch like you're Dennis the Menace."
"I don't know what that means!" Bay shouted, navigating around laser beams.
"Never mind, just fly!"
They streaked through space. Eighty-something ships. The Rattlers chased, lasers firing, pounding at the human sterns, carving off decks. Another freighter exploded.
Ahead Rowan saw it. The rogue planet. A dark, lifeless chunk of rock.
She fired another volley, hitting a Rattler.
The fleet stormed closer, charging at breakneck speed.
"Hold on, this is gonna get bumpy," Bay said.
They shot into the planet's gravity well.
The force grabbed the fleet, dragging it down toward the dwarf planet.
Bay bellowed as he tugged back on the yoke, pulling with all his might. Their engines roared. Fire spurted from the exhaust. They fought the gravity with all their might, skimming the planet's surface, heading toward the horizon. Once their angle was correct, the gravity stopped pulling and began pushing, giving the ships an enormous boost of speed.
And the Rattlers followed.
A thousand enemy warships raged forth, grazing the planet's thin atmosphere. The gravity shoved them too. They charged in pursuit.
"As soon as we burst over the horizon, we're gonna slingshot!" Bay shouted. "Get ready to nuke the surface and raise that wall of debris!"
Rowan nodded, her hands on the triggers. "Ready!" She spoke into her comm to the other ships in her fleet. "Move right up into our asses, guys! Keep close!"
She
knew she'd have to get the timing just right. The human fleet would have to bunch together, closer than pancakes in a pan. She'd have to drop the nukes and let them fall. When the nukes detonated on the surface, the last human straggler would have to be past them—and vanishing with the fleet into the distance.
"All right, here we go!" Bay cried, wincing.
The Byzantium rattled. The viewports were nearly cracking. The dashboards thrummed and a few detached. The bulkheads twisted and bent.
Bay bellowed as he gave the engines a burst on full afterburner. He rose to his feet, pulling the yoke with his entire body, curving his flight around the planet. One of the human ships following them crashed onto the surface. Another careened wildly into deep space.
But the others followed Bay's trajectory. The gravity was about to hurl them away like stones from a sling.
Rowan held her finger over the button.
And from the planet's surface, they rose.
Aliens.
Huge, squirming aliens the size of starships. Aliens with stony bodies and snapping claws.
One of the beasts roared toward the Byzantium, nearly slamming into them. Bay screamed and had to swerve, nearly breaking free from the gravity well. Other aliens slammed into human ships, cracking their hulls.
"What the hell?" Bay shouted.
"Bay, this planet has life!" Rowan said. "Giant aliens who can fly into space!"
"Great, blow them out of the sky!"
"But—"
"Do it or we're dead!" Bay cried.
Rowan winced. She hated the thought of firing on peaceful aliens—even if those aliens were slamming into her fleet like birds into an old plane's propellers.
She took her hand off the nuke button.
Instead, she fired an array of flares.
The sparklers spilled out and ignited, casting beams of light.
The aliens scattered. Their giant eyes had evolved on a planet with only dim starlight; the flares blinded them. A few flares hit the clawed beasts, knocking them back.
"All right, the coast is clear!" Bay said. "Here we go!"
The bridge thrummed.
Rowan's brain rattled in her skull. She could barely see. Everything was strobing lights and vibrating metal. The Rattlers emerged over the horizon behind them, and lasers flashed.
The gravity flung the human fleet toward deep space.
The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4) Page 13
