Kitzov tapped away at his armrest control, sending fire orders to his gun crews and weapons operator on the flight deck. “Poledri, load maximum density kinetic hail to the cannons. We’ll throw a hail curtain up in that Skarak’s face. Fire on my command.”
Kitzov watched as the Skarak closed in. He had seen the warships in action. He knew their primary weapon was housed in the rapier cluster at the front of the ship. He calculated that the ship would not charge through the hail curtain and risk its primary weapon.
“Ready to fire, sir,” Poledri said.
Kitzov watched the range to the Skarak ship. It needed to be close enough to make it slow down to avoid the hail curtain, giving them crucial time to get to the safety of the Gemini defense platform.
Watching the Skarak, Kitzov tried to understand what they were doing here in the Scorpio System. He understood the Union—they were descendants of the first fleet to arrive here in the system and they wanted total dominance. He understood the Faction—scattered at first, avoiding scrutiny by the authorities, longing to live free. But the Skarak, what was their game? They had been hiding here in the system for who knew how long and only attacked when discovered. Then they came en masse and attacked the Kalis landing zone, a Faction meeting. Their firepower had been enough that they could have obliterated the surface and every Faction ship there in seconds. But they chose to land ground troops, snatch up living humans, carry them off to their ship, and then return them as walking corpses.
Kitzov flattered himself that he understood the motivations of his allies and his enemies. He understood the Faction, he understood the Union, and he even understood the spy he had on ice in the med-bay, but he did not understand the Skarak. Who were they? Where had they come from? What did they want?
“Fire,” Kitzov said, clenching his fist so tightly that his knuckles went white.
The image on the holo-stage showed the kinetic hail blast from the Fist and the Silence. The fragments were tightly packed at first and then spread out to create a curtain of kinetic hail fragments, their positions displayed as a cloud of red haze.
The Skarak warship charged on undeterred. Kitzov leaned forward in his chair.
“They are not slowing,” Poledri said.
Kitzov could hear Poledri’s anger. The captain had always been explosive and ill-tempered. It was what Kitzov liked about him. It made him a fierce fighter.
“Load high-ex,” Kitzov said. “Stand by all spitz guns. Target the center of the rapier cluster at the leading edge of the Skarak warship.”
The Skarak ship on the holo-stage lit up as the blue crackle beam lanced out from the front. The beam flickered across the curtain of kinetic hail, lighting up on one minute fragment after another. The hail shimmered as the crackle beam spread over it like lightning through a snowstorm.
As the flickering blue beam fizzled out, the Skarak ship plowed into the curtain. The hail fell aside as the ship burst through, tiny lights flashing over the long, straight rapier structures.
“Kinetic hail curtain has failed,” Kitzov said to Poledri as he sent his orders for the second salvo. “The hail should have shredded their forward section.”
“That crackle fire just turned the hail fragments to dust. I knew we should have fired high-ex.” Poledri was pacing the flight deck of the Odium Fist, moving in and out of the field of view on the Silence’s main holo-stage.
“Calm down, Poledri,” Kitzov said. “We had a free shot. It might have slowed them down. But now we hit them hard. Fire high-ex rounds on my command.”
The Skarak ship closed in, the maximum range of the crackle beam shown as a red cone on the holo-image. The Silence and the Fist would have another free shot before they had to tangle at close range—the crackle beam from the Skarak warship against the agile Faction ships and their rapid-fire spitz guns.
“Fire,” Kitzov said and brought his fist down on the armrest of his command chair.
The salvo of high-ex rounds closed in on the Skarak ship. The crackle beam fired again and slammed into a round. It detonated and set off a chain reaction that spread out from the first high-ex round to those around it, balls of white plasma burning at a trillion degrees for a fraction of a second.
The hail rounds that made it through the cascade of detonations slammed into the forward section of the Skarak vessel. The white-hot explosions lit up the rapier cluster from within. They looked fragile as the detonation flashed. Several rapiers broke away, tumbling aside as the Skarak ship charged on.
“Spitz guns, fire.” Kitzov saw the Skarak ship close in to crackle beam range, its rapiers lighting up, not with the detonation of high-ex this time but with the building blue crackle beam.
“Break, break,” Kitzov said. “Scatter and attack opposite flanks.”
The Silence peeled off to the port side, the Fist turning to starboard. The Fist’s turn was not as sharp as the Silence’s. It opened with its spitz guns, white plasma rounds leaping away from its starboard guns as the top-mounted guns swiveled to add their fire to the attack.
Kitzov watched, leaning forward, tension growing, as his spitz guns poured fire into the Skarak ship. The points of impact glowed white hot. The spitz rounds appeared to sink slowly into the Skarak hull, as if its surface was made of a thick, viscous material. The heat and impact from the spitz rounds dissipated across its dark hull.
Then the crackle beam blasted out, slamming into the Odium Fist, catching her amidships. The scene on the Fist’s flight deck relayed briefly to the holo-stage on the Silence. The blue beam flickered over every surface of the flight deck and crept up over Poledri as he paced the deck. The image froze as contact was lost with the Fist, the crew on the flight deck trapped in a painful moment as blue and white lines of energy flickered over them.
Kitzov pushed the Silence to speed, trying to move out of range of the Skarak warship as she slowly turned her rapier structures toward his ship. The blue crackle beam grew in the rapier shadows and then burst out, slamming into the Silence.
Kitzov gripped his armrests. The holo-stage cut out. The flight deck lights went dark, and then the deck was lit up by the blue crackle beam that crept over the deck and bulkheads. They flicked about like hundreds of angry snakes on a hot surface. The first blue line touched the foot of the crewman at the weapons console. It climbed up over his body, turning white as it did so. The man shuddered, his yell of pain cut short as he fell. One by one, the flight deck crew fell like dominoes. The blue flickering lines crept toward the command chair, up the plinth at the footrest, and then onto Kitzov.
The blue light’s first touch was agony and as the line crept over his body, the pain grew until he felt himself slump in the chair and slip into a dark, painful dream.
10
Boyd woke to darkness. The last thing he remembered was being dragged to the med-bay and sealed away in a pod for transport to some nasty little Faction world where he would be tried, sentenced, and executed—all to be broadcast across the Scorpio System.
He was awake, expecting at any moment to be dragged out to howls from a braying mob, but nothing was happening. He found he could move his arms and legs a little, but the restraints still held him in place. He wriggled and felt them slacken. He tried to sit up, straining against the straps across his chest. They moved a fraction and his head hit the cover of the med-pod.
Boyd could see almost nothing. He could just about see a faint light blinking outside—a small green light—and he realized that the pod’s cover was clear, so it was the ship that was dark.
He struggled against his straps and finally pulled free. He pressed his hands to the cover and tried to open it. Freedom. The Faction always went on about it, and now he would have it for himself.
But the cover would not move more than a fraction.
Then he heard a noise, nearby, just to his right. He heard Thresh. She was panicking, mumbling, grunts and yelps of frustration and fear. Then she spoke.
“Boyd.”
Boyd turned and looked a
cross. The distant flashing shone over the cover of her pod. He could just make out her body inside—not strapped down but still trapped by the cover.
“Kitzov,” she mumbled. She was grunting now, desperate. Struggling.
“Thresh,” Boyd said in a harsh whisper. “It’s me. Are we still on the Silence?”
“I don’t know. What’s happening? I can’t see.”
“Power is down. I’m trapped. How about you?”
He could hear her struggling and then, to his surprise, he heard the cover of Thresh’s pod slide back.
“I’m free.”
“Good. Help me out of here.” Boyd pushed against the pod cover. He saw Thresh moving, a shadow in the dark, lit only by the distant single flashing light.
“I don’t know,” Thresh said. “Kitzov put you in there. I don’t think I should let you out.”
“Come on, Thresh. There’s something wrong here. Let me out and we can work out what’s gone wrong.”
With his eyes growing accustomed to the low light, he saw the dark shape of Thresh move across the med-bay to one of the consoles. The small flashing light was on that console—a tiny red point in the dark.
Thresh hit the panel.
“The power is down. This medical console has its own supply, for emergencies. I’ll get it powered up.”
Boyd was finally able to get his fingers through the small gap that had opened between the cover and its edge, and he pulled the cover down to his waist.
The med-bay lit up with a low green glow.
“I’ve got it. The consoles here are live. Power’s on,” Thresh said.
Boyd wriggled free of the pod and glanced over at Thresh at the medical console. She was tapping into ship systems for a status report. Boyd went to a cabinet and opened it. He fumbled around inside and found an electron scalpel. He activated it and a centimeter-long blue blade appeared. With a small adjustment, he extended the electron blade to a full five centimeters. It was not much but it was a weapon. If he was going to stand a chance at getting out of here, he would need to be armed. The sooner he upgraded to a pulse pistol the better, but for now, the scalpel would have to do.
“Power is down across the ship,” Thresh said. “I am detecting life signs across the ship but no movement.”
Boyd joined Thresh at the console. “Can you access the internal surveillance net?”
“I’m trying.” Thresh looked over her shoulder at him. “You are a spy, aren’t you? Why don’t you try?”
Boyd looked at the scalpel in his hand. If he deactivated it, he would be unarmed, and he knew from personal experience that Thresh was very competent at hand-to-hand combat. Did he really want to be unarmed next to a dangerous Faction fighter? But then he saw something in Thresh’s eye, something deep. He knew he didn’t need to fear her. She looked at him with a mixture of distrust and respect. He could tell she would not hurt him, at least not right now. Somehow, he knew he could trust her.
“Okay, let me try,” Boyd said.
“Not a chance, Union spy,” Thresh said with a half-smile as she opened the sensor net. She moved closer to Boyd, pressing her back close to Boyd’s chest.
Boyd saw the holo-image of the flight deck. It was dark, all consoles were unpowered, and the only light came from the small red flashing light on each console. They flickered across the flight deck, showing that the crew were either lying on the ground or slumped against their workstations.
Boyd pointed at one body on the deck. His arm reached over Thresh’s shoulder, his bicep brushing her cheek.
“Kitzov,” Boyd said, pointing at the body on the flight deck. “Is he dead?”
Thresh shook her head and then tipped it to nestle in the crook of Boyd’s arm. “No, all ship’s company are accounted for. We have their life signs here.” She pointed at the medical display.
Boyd tapped the controls and selected another sensor node. He saw the main central corridor running the length of the Silence. Bodies lay scattered along it. Another node in the drive room showed the same scene—small flashing lights at unpowered consoles in standby mode and bodies on the deck.
“What about the Fist?” Boyd said. “They were docked with the Silence before they put me to sleep.”
“I might be able to access an external sensor, but with the power down, I’m not sure how much range I’ll have.”
Thresh tapped the controls and an external holo-image appeared. The Fist was alongside the Silence, but both ships were unpowered and tumbling lazily next to each other. And then Boyd and Thresh saw the large, dark shape looming over both ships.
“Can we get a better look at that?” Boyd asked, but he already knew what it was. The merest glimpse of the long rapiers told him everything he needed to know.
“I think so.” Thresh zoomed out the image. It lost a lot of clarity and color, but they both knew what they were looking at.
“We need to get out of here,” Boyd said.
“I’ll go to the drive room and try to get the power on. You go to the flight deck. Can you manage it alone?”
“Hey, I know this configuration. I can fly her with one hand behind my back.”
“I didn’t expect anything less of a Union pilot.”
Boyd laughed. “Hey, just because I can fly, it doesn’t mean…”
“Stow it, flyboy. Save it for your courtroom defense.”
Boyd handed the scalpel to Thresh. “You might need it. It will at least light the way for you.”
“What about you?” Thresh said.
“I could find my way to the flight deck blindfolded. Just try and get some power up, unless you want us both to get out and push.”
Boyd stepped out into the corridor and checked for any sounds before finally patting Thresh on the shoulder.
“Okay?”
Thresh nodded, the scalpel held up in front of her face.
Boyd ran along the corridor. The faintest lights on bulkhead consoles and internal door control panels lit his way. He tripped over a body in the corridor. He heard something clatter across the deck as he stumbled. Feeling across the dark floor for what had made the noise, his fingers touched the pulse rifle. He grabbed it and immediately fired up the electron bayonet. The meter-long blade erupted from the muzzle and lit up the corridor with an eerie glow. The body at his feet was a trooper. Boyd frisked him and found the concealed pistol. Boyd tucked the pistol in his waistband and moved off toward the flight deck.
The flight deck was dark but for the crazy flashing of the console standby lights. Boyd climbed up into the command chair, propping up the rifle so the glowing electron bayonet could give him some light to see by.
Tapping away at the armrest controls, Boyd discovered the command chair systems were down. He pulled a panel and accessed the circuitry. He attempted to repower the command chair systems from its back up source.
“Boyd,” Thresh’s voice came crackling over the flight deck communicator. “I’ve run some power to the communication systems. The core still has power, it was just disrupted. It’s like when the Skarak attacked us on Kalis. I’m sure I can get us underway in a few seconds, but as soon as I power up the drive, the Skarak will hit us again.”
Boyd burned his fingers as the command chair circuits flashed. Power came on over the chair, armrest holo-controls blinking into life.
“What about thrusters? Just nudge ourselves away a bit and then hit up the drive.” He opened the armrest holo-stage and looked at the scene outside the ship.
The Skarak warship was hanging in space over the two Faction ships. And then he saw the dark specks moving away from the warship toward the Fist and the Silence.
“We don’t have time,” Boyd said. “The Skarak are coming here.”
“Why don’t they just kill us?” Thresh said, anger and fear in her voice.
“It’s not their plan,” Boyd said. “They want to take control of us. I don’t want to become one of those walking corpses. We have to get out of here now.”
“I’ll give you po
wer,” Thresh said. “Get ready to move.”
“No,” Boyd said suddenly, a plan formulating in his mind. “Can you bring the Fist’s core back online?”
Thresh was quiet.
“Thresh. Can you do it remotely?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice quiet and filled with dread.
“Can you remove the governor fields on the core interface nodes?”
“No,” Thresh said in a panic, and Boyd understood from her tone that she had fully understood his plan without him having to spell it out.
“Can you?” he asked more firmly.
“I won’t,” she said.
“Then we all die, or worse.”
“I can do it,” Thresh said finally, darkly. “But I’ll do it for Kitzov, not you, Will.”
“Do it. Then power up the Silence. I’ll be ready.”
Boyd stepped down from the command chair and to the pilot’s seat. He pulled the unconscious pilot from the chair and dropped him on the deck. Boyd pulled the maintenance panel from the flight console and powered it up, a spark burning his fingers again. He let out a curse at the sudden flash of pain, flexed his fingers, and prepared himself to act.
The flight console holo-stage lit up, a small image showing the scene outside. Thresh’s voice came over the flight deck from her position in the drive room.
“Three, two, one.”
Boyd watched as the Fist lit up, external lights coming on and showing the name: Odium Fist. It had been Boyd’s ship for months. He had infiltrated Poledri’s crew and had lived among them. He prepared to say good-bye forever.
The lights across the exterior of the Fist grew brighter. The drive assembly flared, a blue-green bubble growing and engulfing the entire ship.
Then the lights on the flight deck of the Silence burst to full intensity.
Boyd heard Thresh shouting, but he was already acting. His hands danced across the flight controls and he punched the Silence up to speed.
Then the Fist erupted in a huge plasma ball that engulfed the entire ship in super-hot energy. The fireball punched out and slammed into the rapier cluster at the front of the Skarak ship.
Invasion (Blue Star Marines Book 3) Page 8
