by Rob Dearsley
“How long?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the entryway. Where were Arland and Luc?
“Three, maybe four minutes.”
Ah heck. Even if they were still on the timeline, they’d be pushing it to get the others back before then and as it was they were behind schedule. Damn it, damn it! He wasn’t willing to sacrifice them, not if there was even the smallest chance.
“Look out.”
Dannage snapped his head up to see a panel on the end of the bay ripping apart. He grabbed the flight stick, yanking hard to the left and slewing the ship away from the blast. Another vibration ripped through the Hlin, blowing out systems. The lights went dark.
“Captain,” Hale said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He already knew what she was going to say. He didn’t want to hear it. Wasn’t going to do it. “We need to get out of here.”
“Not yet.” He pulled away, looking back toward the doorway.
Hale grabbed him. “If we stay much longer we’ll all die.”
“I’m not leaving without them,” he yelled back, another blast rocking the Folly.
“This ship is coming apart,” Jax said. “We can’t wait much longer.”
He shook his head, his eyes flicking between the doorway and the clock, T+68. Distant explosions rippled through the ship and another power relay above the Folly blew out, raining sparks down over the small cargo haulier.
“Dannage.” Hale spun him around with enough force to give him whiplash. Their eyes locked, hers searching his for something, perhaps the words to convince him to leave his friends and save himself. If she thought there were any words that would do that then she didn’t know him. Stars, he knew he had enough faults, but he was loyal to his crew, his friends. He cared about them and was not going to leave them. Ever.
Hale’s eyes softened, her lips parting in recognition. “You love her, don’t you?”
He pulled away, not understanding. The confusion must have shown on his face.
“Sorry.” She leaned back, focusing on something over his shoulder. “Look.”
He turned, pulling the rest of the way out of her grip and his heart soared. Luc appeared in the doorway, pulling Arland along behind him. The gravity had gone out, allowing the pair to float along.
The Folly’s bay doors were still open. Dannage grabbed the flight stick, angling the ship toward his friends, so Luc could jump straight in. Luc saw what he was doing and kicked off, shooting toward the ship like a rocket, Arland’s slack body in tow.
“They’re in,” Hale said. “Go.”
He went.
All around them, the docking bay tore itself apart. Fire washed across the Folly as she rushed toward the open door. Then, they were back in space.
As soon as they were clear, he spun the Folly, allowing them to see the Hlin in its death throes.
Hale grimaced in pain as they watched the ship’s superstructure ripple and distort, almost like waves on an ocean. Fire bloomed from the rear of the Hlin. The blast engulfed the back half of the ship. Half a second later, the shockwave buffeted the Folly, tossing the small ship like a leaf on the wind.
Dannage wrestled with the flight stick, its feedback jarring his arms and shoulders as he pulled against the ship’s inertia. By the time he got the Folly stabilised, the front half of the Hlin was breaking into smaller pieces, crumbling away.
“It’s gone.” Hale slumped against the chair next to him.
“We did it,” Dannage said, more to convince himself than anything else. It didn’t seem quite real. He felt that at any moment he was going to wake up.
Next to him, Hale stiffened, her eyes becoming distant and unfocused. He was about to ask what was up when a blue-white flash almost blinded him. Before he could react, the Folly’s proximity alarms blared.
He looked up to see another Terran ship appear above them, too close to identify.
As he pulled away from the cruiser another flash appeared, followed by another, and another. Each one disgorged more Terran ships, dozens of them, varying in size from ones similar to the Hlin to huge carriers, bigger than some of the Gypsum habitats.
He sat, slack-jawed at the scale of the invasion. There were hundreds of Terran ships in the system and more were still jumping in. Everything they’d done, all for nothing.
“Cap’n,” Luc’s voice came over the com.
He tapped the com control without looking down, without thinking. He wasn’t sure he could think anymore. His mind refused to function, shutting down in the face of such total defeat.
“Cap’n, we need you in the hold.”
“What?” More Terran ships jumped in.
“It’s Arland.”
“What?”
His mind crystallised around a single image. Arland unconscious being dragged into the Hlin’s cargo bay.
Throwing himself from his chair, he ran for the Folly’s hold.
Seven
- Gypsum IIc -
Samantha leaned against the balcony railing and looked out over Gypsum’s capital city. The view from the spacescraper’s hundred-and-fiftieth floor was fantastic. Rooftop gardens and plazas stretched out toward the horizon, interspersed with gleaming skyscrapers. In the distance, space-liners rose into the early morning sky, their hulls glinting in the sunlight.
At this altitude, the air always felt cool and fresh on her face. Closing her eyes, Samantha took a deep breath, feeling frosty air burn all the way down into her lungs. It was a nice change from the stuffy council chambers.
Forty-two-billion people, here and across the system. And keeping them all safe was her responsibility. That was easy to forget at times, but coming out to this balcony helped her think, to gain perspective. Sometimes she wished she could be more like Michael, just run off and live for the moment, but that wasn’t her path.
A voice from behind broke into Samantha’s thoughts. “Madam Senator?”
Samantha took a final deep breath and turned toward the source of the voice, a willow-thin woman with a crop of short red hair.
“They’re not back in session yet?” Samantha asked, reaching for her flex to check the time. Then she saw the aid’s thinly veiled worry. Fliss was normally so composed. What would have her rattled? Stars, this could be bad.
“Scanners picked up gravity anomalies and a high energy explosion on the periphery of the system.”
Damn. They had to get to tactical command. “What caused it?”
“Reports are still coming in. They want you down in the SDF command post.”
Samantha cast one last look across the glittering skyline before following Fliss into the spacescraper.
They hurried past the open double doors into the amphitheatre-like senate chamber and toward the bank of lifts. The military command post was a couple dozen floors down.
A deep, booming voice followed them down the hall. “Minister Dannage.”
Samantha turned to see the First Minister bearing down on them. He was a big guy with a large expanse of bushy beard devouring the lower portion of his face.
“What do you know about these explosions?” he demanded.
“Explosion, singular. As far as I know, there’s only been one,” Samantha replied. “I’m on my way down to the command post now.”
Before he could say more the lift arrived and Samantha ducked inside. The First Minister joined her in the lift, waving for Samantha to activate the controls.
Despite the short ride, tension settled on the lift carriage like a blanket, stifling, cloying. Damn it, what was happening out there? Separatists? She pulled out her flex and brought up the data. Odd. It was nowhere near a slipway. Why would anyone even be out there?
Finally, the lift sighed to a halt, the doors opening directly into the SDF Command Post.
The room buzzed with activity. Systems’ Defence Force troopers clustered around the room’s big, central holographic display. Other senators, still garbed in their official red robes, milled around, generally getting in the way.
Samantha’s m
ilitary counterpart, Commander Hawthorne, leaned forward into the display, the outer gas giants distorting around his chest. “What assets have we got in position?”
“Admiral Ambrose on the SDF Pavel is heading seven-six-seven battle group. They’re pushing off from III,” a younger officer reported from one of the wall consoles.
“Balls, they’re on the far side of the damn system. Don’t we have anything closer?”
“Nothing military.”
Samantha stepped up alongside Hawthorne, leaving Fliss and the First Minister a couple of paces back. She pushed a strand of curly dark hair behind her ear. “Anything new? Do we know what it was?”
“Explosion out near the Heliopause.” Hawthorne pointed to the red callout on the holographic map. “Big burst of exotic matter. Killed one of our scanner’s satellites. We’re still waiting for another one to get in range.”
“Separatists?” Samantha asked.
“I hope not,” Hawthorne said. “The idea of those muppets with vacuum energy weapons is bloody terrifying.”
Maybe, Samantha thought. But if not Separatists, then what? Would anyone else have zero-point energy already be any better? Colonies research still placed zero-point energy in any form decades away.
“Sirs,” the young officer’s voice pulled their attentions. “Scanner feeds are coming in. We’re picking up ten— no, thirteen contacts moving in-system. Current speed puts them ten minutes from the nearest habitat.”
A second later, thirteen callouts popped up on the hologram.
“Do we know who they are?” Hawthorne asked.
“No, sir,” the scanner officer replied. “There’s no identification beacon and the LIDAR profiles don’t match anything in our records. Damn, they’re huge. Biggest one is nearly the size of a station.”
Two of the callouts flashed red and the feed on the hologram flickered.
“What happened?” Samantha asked?
“Ass-hats shot down our scanner satellite.” Hawthorne slammed his fist into the holotable, the hologram flickering under the impact. “This is telemetry from Habitat IV-Delta.”
Samantha’s breath caught in her throat, the last vestiges of hope that this was all just an accident fading. They were under attack. But by whom, damn it.
All she could do was watch the callouts fall toward the outer habitats.
“Where the heck is Ambrose?” Hawthorne demanded, glaring at the display.
“Underway, but twenty minutes out.” The scanner officer’s voice was high and tight.
The tension in the command post thickened, making it harder and harder to breathe until Samantha thought he might choke on it.
She almost wished the ships would open fire. Get it over with.
“Have you identified the attacking ships yet?” the First Minister asked. Samantha had been so focused on the displays, she’d almost forgotten he was there.
“No IDs yet. But we’ve got visual from Hab IV-Delta.” The scanner tech tapped a control on her flex and one of the overhead screens sprang to life.
A pair of bulky, predatory ships advanced toward the habitat. Their stubby wings bristled with oversized weapons pods. Mounted beneath each wing were a pair of missiles that must have been at least as big as a skyscraper.
“Hab’s picking up active target lock,” the scanner tech said.
On the screen, a lace of fire burst from the front of the ship, screaming toward the camera feed. The screen whited out before dissolving into static.
Samantha looked away and closed her eyes. Screaming people, burning as fire ripped through the station – their home. Or being blown out into space as the compartments breached. People she’d failed to protect.
Stars damn it.
She was pulled back into the moment by the scanner tech. “Sirs. I’ve got a friendly beacon on one of the ships. It’s a transport ship, CTX-five-one-five. They’re coming in-system fast.”
Samantha couldn’t blame them.
◊◊
Hale pushed the link down, suppressing the ranting of the Core Minds. Hearing this many ships, all at once, was almost more than she could bear. Plasma fire flashed off the Folly’s starboard, red light strobing across the bridge. She didn’t need to look up to know the Buri’s main plasma cannon fired into the habitat. Didn’t need to open her eyes to see the lance of plasma ripping through the outer ring of the habitat, tearing open crew compartments in a wash of burning air.
Angels. Stop, please stop, Hale silently begged. What had the modern humans ever done to them? No one deserved this.
The Buri let go a volley of missiles into the habitat, their explosions almost completely ripping away the habitat’s outermost ring. Another ship joined the attack with a barrage of heavy shells, blowing out more compartments.
The other Imperial ships moved through the system, closing on other stations and outer planets.
“Looks like the SDF is coming out to play,” Dannage said.
Hale had been so lost in the link she’d forgotten about the others.
Luc placed a hand on her shoulder. “Miss Hale. I can ask the doc for more blockers if you need them.”
Hale shook her head. She should be able to control this. It was what she’d trained for.
With her jaw, her whole body tense, she looked up. The Folly shot through the system at breakneck speed, leaving the Imperial ships behind.
“What’s the play, Cap'n?” Luc asked, his posture tense and pensive.
Dannage’s gaze stayed on the flight controls. “Get in, get Sam and get gone.”
The Folly left the scene of destruction behind as they continued in-system, but Hale could still feel it. The thrum of weapons fire from Terrans. The Buri’s reactor surged as the plasma cannon fired again, ripping a smaller station clean in half while a barrage of missiles blew apart a group of fleeing transports. It was more than they deserved
No. These weren’t her thoughts. She looked around at the Folly’s crew, haggard, frantic, and trying their damnedest to save lives. They deserved more than to be blown out into space, their ship slagged.
The Buri paused in its onslaught.
The SDF battle group reached weapons range, their targeting scanners pinging off the Buri’s hull. Countermeasures came online, missiles and shells already screaming toward the SDF ships. They would burn, they would all burn for what they’d done.
Damn it. Hale pushed the ship-link down, ignoring the slaughter going on behind them. The SDF ships were so hilariously outmatched, they couldn’t hope to stand against the power of half a dozen Imperial warships.
“Cap’n, system-wide broadcast. You’ll want to hear it.” Without waiting for a response, Luc patched the com through to the overhead speakers.
A rough, anxious voice filtered through the speakers. “This is Senator Dannage requesting all available assistance for a system-wide evacuation. Repeat, all ships within range of Gypsum System are requested to assist with evacuations.”
A distraught look fell over Dannage’s face. “Jax, where did that come from?”
“Checking.” The rattle of Jax’ keyboard came over the speakers.
“Damn it, Jax!” Dannage swerved them around a small satellite orbiting a swirling blue and green planet.
“It’s being relayed through every com-link in the system. I’m trying.”
They were in the heart of the system. Habitats and terraformed moons surrounded them. Hale could feel the Terran ships pushing their way toward them. The SDF ships fell back under the onslaught. The Imperial ships would be within range in minutes.
“Got it,” Jax said.
“Where?” Dannage demanded.
“Origin point is IIc. Inside the government spacescraper.”
“Throwing up a waypoint,” Luc said.
Before the callout was on the display, Dannage had the ship diving toward one of the moons.
◊◊
Everything was soft and fuzzy. Arland floated in a white haze. She couldn’t quite work out how she’d got
ten there. The last thing she remembered was being on the Hlin, being attacked. Oh Stars, that wound. She looked down, groping at her side trying to find the wound.
The fuzziness stopped her from seeing or feeling herself. Small flashes of panic flickered through her mind, but they were lost in the haze. She tried to call out, only to find her voice didn’t seem to work either. Somehow though, this felt right.
She didn’t know how long she’d been floating when she heard the voice, something vaguely familiar, even though she couldn’t quite place it.
“Arland? Arland, can you hear me?”
The haze lifted slightly, it was Vaughn’s voice. Was she back on the Folly? How had she gotten there? Or had he killed them all? Was she inside one of his computers?
Her mind cleared more. She could feel the mattress beneath her, the stiffly starched linen of the med-bay bed. Her hands moved to her abdomen. The wound? She felt a sterile dressing taped to her side. She took a deep breath, blinking, trying to clear away the last of the drug-induced fuzz.
“Arland.”
She looked over to see Vaughn approaching, and tensed.
“I know what you think of me, but I’m a doctor before all else. I wouldn’t hurt you.”
She pushed herself up. “How long was I out?”
“Not as long as I would have liked.” He ran a scanner wand over her wounded side. “Those nanites of yours are miracle workers.”
“I’m okay to go?” She pulled up the medical gown to examine the swathe of sterile dressing across her side.
“I’d advise rest. You almost died. If Mr. Danes hadn’t used that foam you would have bled out.”
She winced. She’d been given news like that twice before when she was in the military. Being brought face to face with her own mortality gave her pause. Of course, she’d do it again in a second if it meant saving her friends.
Swinging her legs off the bed, she gingerly stood. For a moment the room spun, but she held her ground. After the momentary dizziness, she started toward the door, her movements still timid.
“I meant what I said. There are twenty-eight stitches in your side, plus nearly fifty internal sutures. You rip them, you’ll bleed out before your nanites can fix it.”
