I have to look down and blink rapidly to chase away the pressure behind my eyes. My voice comes out ragged when I finally speak.
“If you think that, then why did you leave?”
Malik runs a hand through his hair and huffs a sigh.
“You couldn’t even look at me after the accident, Nax. You cut me off like I never existed. And it was shitty, okay? I was pissed at you for that, but that’s not why I left.”
“Why then?” I hold my breath for the answer, an answer to a question I’ve been asking myself for years. Malik smiles, subdued.
“You needed space to figure stuff out for yourself without me always hovering. Sometimes the best way to help is to just . . . back off. So I did. But it wasn’t supposed to be forever.”
His eyes shift to something over my shoulder, and I turn to see Zee beckoning me up the ramp.
It’s time to go.
Malik backs away and takes Brenn’s hand. “We’ll talk more when this is all over. Promise.”
“Be safe,” I say.
“We will,” Brenn replies. “Now, I worked hard on that ship, so don’t go getting her shot out of the sky.”
My chest gives a painful stab at that, but I force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and shake her hand. “I’ll do my best. Pleasure working with you.”
“Likewise,” she says, stepping back to let us leave. “You make it out of this okay, bring her back, and we’ll finish the full job.”
With a tiny smile, she tugs Malik away, and they run to a safe distance to watch us go. I raise a hand in one last wave good-bye, then head inside and bring up the ramp. Time to fly.
On the bridge, I squeeze Rion’s good shoulder as I pass and throw myself into the pilot’s chair, flicking a dozen switches to get us ready. As soon as I get a green light for the mag coils, I thumb a trickle of power into them, signaling to Brenn’s ground crew that we’re ready to go. A ground crewman waves us forward, guiding us out of the enormous garage doors and onto the tarmac beyond. I follow the painted markings out to the landing pad and, as soon as the ground crew have cleared off, hit the ignition to get the engines warming.
“Everything operating at peak efficiency,” Case says, swiping through screen after screen of diagnostics. “The engines are well tuned, performing five percent better, actually.” She frowns, tapping a few times. “I can’t find Tau’ri in the nav database, though.”
“It’s unregistered,” Asra says, waving her tab in front of the console’s wireless data transfer point. “And not terribly friendly or talkative, either. They’re a perfect target. Unregulated colonies don’t get courier ships or goods shipments, and they don’t show up on stock maps, so it could be days before anyone notices something happened to them.” Her voice goes ragged at the end. “To them,” she said. To her mother and sister. Zee reaches over and takes Asra’s hand, a silent comfort.
“Nothing’s going to happen to them,” I snarl, kicking us off the ground and into the sky. “Because we’re going to get there first.”
“The weapon,” Case says. “Best I can tell from the scans I took, it receives a trigger signal, then fires up the repeater and adds a little rider of code to the message. But I have no idea why. All I can tell you from the schematics I pulled is that the device has an incredible power source, and the receiver is made from really expensive components.”
“Let me see that code,” Asra demands. Case angles her hip so Asra can get to the pocket where her tab is stowed, her eyes never leaving the control console.
Brenn’s compound shrinks in the distance as we charge toward orbit, deadly silent but for the vibration of the engines and Asra’s frenzied muttering. I hope we’re not too late. I don’t know if I can stand to see Asra’s heart shatter, or see firsthand what will happen to Malik if we don’t find a way to stop these attacks.
“Okay, okay, here,” Asra says, flapping one hand to get our attention. “This little rider of code you spotted, yes, it instructs every device receiving the signal to repeat, too. It tells every tab, satellite, and computerized anything on the planet to spread the signal throughout its entire network, creates a giant digital echo chamber for this signal.”
“What’s the point of that?” Zee asks.
Rion braces a hand on the back of my seat and leans forward. “It must be weaponized in some way. There’s no other explanation.”
“Wait, what?” I glance over my shoulder; Asra has zoomed in on a little section of code and is following a section with her finger.
“It doesn’t just repeat a digital signal. Here. If the device has external speakers, then set volume to max minus one, probably to account for distortion . . . and then it feeds a portion of the signal out through the speakers.”
Rion swears. “A sonic weapon of some kind. The military back on Earth has been researching them for over two hundred years.”
Zee hums in realization. “Yes, and the concept has been proven in several wars since. There are frequencies to disrupt vision, burst eardrums, induce nausea, bring on cardiac arrest, and there were even rumors they’d figured out one to cause brain aneurysms. It has to be very loud, though.”
Case sends the final calculations for the jump to my screen, then leans around her seat back to face Zee. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Most modern small speakers can reach a hundred and forty decibels, and with all of them going at once? Even our damn toilets have speakers now, to tell us when they need cleaning. If every speaker in a house activated, and they all played the kill signal at max volume . . .”
“They could kill off most of the population all at once,” Rion says. As if it needed to be explicitly stated.
“Not going to happen,” I say again. We’re nearly at the jump point. “Asra, are you going to be okay?”
Her smile is tight and grim. “I’m ready.”
We climb through hazy cloud cover into the starry night sky, my gut churning harder with every second that passes. Asra said just under an hour. It’s only been about forty minutes. We’ll be there in five. We’ll warn them, and everything will be fine. Completely fine.
No beautiful views of the planet for us this time. The dark of night swallows all the blue-green beauty that greeted us earlier today. Was it only a few hours ago? Brenn must have had her entire crew working on the Kick to get her ready so fast. It’s amazing work, though; the controls feel a little tighter, more responsive as I hold us to our exit vector, and 50 percent engine speed feels a bit hotter than it did before. Not complaining.
Then the shooting starts.
Now I’m complaining.
Bullets pound against our shields, taking them down by nearly a quarter before I can juke out of the way. My heart leaps into my throat, strangling me as I try to yell for—
“Case!”
“Working on it!” she snaps before I can even give her the order. Data spills onto my HUD; flight trajectories, shield status messages, and an angry red dot closing in on our position. Fast.
Okay. Have to focus. I can do this. Asra’s family needs us.
“Rion, Zee, get to the guns, see if you can get visual on it. Tell us if you see any identifying marks, then shoot it out of the sky, got it?” I throw the ship into an aggressive climb, weaving as little as possible for the sake of gaining speed and distance. The ship’s vibration changes, and I hope it’s not because a bullet has hit some vital exposed part. We just got the ship back, and if we’ve already broken it, I’m going to be very unhappy.
“I am so tired of this,” I say, yanking us over as another volley flies past our portside wing. “Isn’t this getting old? I think it’s old.”
“Got visual!” Rion calls over the intercom from the starboard turret. “It’s a Ford Galaxy X4. I can’t see all the details, but I’m pretty sure it’s got that Earth First circle-logo thing on the side. Looks like they’ve come to finish the cover-up job in person.”
“Of course they have. Of freaking course, because that has been our luck since we all me
t. Who’s the bad-luck charm? Is it me?” I throw the ship into a sharp roll when the HUD shrieks. Under my feet, the ship vibrates in time with the clatter of the guns.
“Their shields are eating it up, Nax,” Zee says, then pauses to fire again. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to punch through before it’s time to jump. How long do we have?”
Case tries to pull up our ETA to the jump point, but I have to jerk back on the stick to avoid a missile, and her arms go flying. She gets her hands back on the displays quickly, though, and calls, “Thirty seconds to break atmo, three minutes to jump distance at max speed.”
“Give it all you got, people,” I say, my eyes glued to the tactical data scrolling across the display. “If we can hit them enough times to make them cautious, that’ll give us the space we need to get to the jump zone.”
My instruments shriek as the enemy ship gets a missile lock, and I cut the throttle and slam the stick over, tipping us up on our side. Maneuvering in atmo like this is eating up our fuel, but we’re well stocked now, so we can deal. I refuse to be shot down again.
Ahead of us, the sky becomes wispy as the haze of the atmosphere fades around us. Three of the colony’s moons are in this sector of space, and an army of satellites race along in low orbit. Behind us, the pursuing ship shows no signs of slowing. Rion and Zee are doing their best, calling back and forth to each other over the ship’s intercom, working to trap the ship in a pattern of fire, but it’s no use. Then I have an idea.
“Rion, Zee, listen. On my mark, I’m going to cut directly in front of the ship and pull back on the throttle. Be ready.”
“Got it.”
“Ready.”
I weave my way through the space junk in lower orbit, one eye on the HUD, and blow out a breath. I hope this isn’t a completely terrible idea.
I keep my hand light on the stick, my thumb on the throttle control. “Here we go. Three . . . two . . . one . . . MARK!”
I park the Kick’s ass straight in the other ship’s path and dial back the throttle, cutting our speed sharply. Both guns go off at the same time, spitting bullets at the ship hurtling straight for us. The HUD scrolls off the distance between us and the target—way too close, too fast. I have to get us going again, and they’ve recovered enough to shoot back, our shields are dropping, 65 percent now—
I push the throttle wide open and we leap forward just as a shock wave rocks the ship, nearly knocking us into a satellite. Tiny fragments of the enemy ship’s hull rain across our shields, too small now to do any real harm. Two whoops of triumph echo from the turrets, one low and throaty, the other higher and more subdued. We all join in, and I flop back in my chair. That was way too close.
“Great job, y’all!” I clap my hands for them over the intercom; they deserve some damned applause. “Now let’s get to Tau’ri and—”
An explosion rocks the boat, a big one that takes out over half our shield power in one hit. Fifteen percent.
“What the fu—” Case starts, but I cut her off with a hard maneuver. I swerve close to one of the satellites, glancing at my readouts when I have half a second.
“What the hell hit us?” I ask, throwing the ship into a random weaving pattern through the space junk and satellites.
“Missile,” Case says, her voice oddly quiet, considering the situation.
“Where the hell did it come from?” We blew the pursuing ship out of the sky. I saw it disappear from the HUD. Did they have—?
A new voice breaks into the channel, low and authoritative.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hall,” it says, just as my HUD lights up with another four ships, then eight, twelve total, as Case identifies and tags them as foes. Twelve fighters. Tiger Squadron, again. “This is Captain Thomas, and it’ll be my pleasure to shoot you out of the sky today. It’s a shame about the ship, but Mr. Pearson won’t be needing it for long, now, will he?”
Yeah, because he’s probably already lounging back on Ellis Station, safe from the death trap he helped fund. What a scumbag.
“The rest of the squadron is nearly in weapons range!” Case snaps. “We can’t deal with twelve fighters, Nax. What are we—?”
“Power from the guns,” I say, interrupting with a sharp gesture. “Like we did before.”
She understands immediately, shifting all the power from the guns to the engines. A wave of lights flare on my console, warnings about engine heat and exhaust and a million other things, but it’ll have to hold together. We’re only thirty seconds out from the jump zone. We can make it. We have to make it. I have to do this. My hand hovers over the control to rev up the jump drive.
The comm crackles.
“It’s been a pleasure chasing you, Mr. Hall. You’re an excellent pilot. Bit of a waste, but Earth First—”
And that’s all the time I give him. I punch the throttle, hard, don’t bother weaving around, just point us straight for the border, giving them a good look at our aft as we rocket to the jump point. Bullets rain against our aft shields, their power draining steadily until the indicator light flickers red, but we’re so close, so close. . . .
“You know we’re just going to follow you,” Captain Thomas snarls. “We know exactly where you’re going, exactly what you hope to do, and we’ll follow. Our people on the ground will be ready for you, and you’ll never—”
We jump.
Nineteen
THE SECOND WE POP BACK into normal space, I open the throttle wide and angle us toward Tau’ri, bringing the bold green arcing horizon into our front viewport. It’s a breathtaking view, the sky spattered with bright points of stars, hazy with swirls of glowing gas pockets and glittering ice crystals, with Tau’ri’s luminous form in the middle of it all.
It’ll be even more breathtaking when I know it’s not already full of dead people.
“We should be in communications range in about two and a half minutes,” Case says, threading her fingers into her hair and squeezing. She mutters to herself under her breath for a moment, vaguely angry sounds, like she’s scolding herself. My brows draw together in a frown.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fine, I’m fine,” she says, letting go and shoving her hair behind her ears. “My brain is being an asshole right now. I’ve got it under control.”
Anxiety is the worst. I reach across the center console to squeeze her shoulder. “Hey, you’re amazing. I’m amazing. We’ve got this. Still maybe ten minutes to go before whatever is supposed to happen goes down. Plenty of time.”
If I say it enough times, I might even believe it myself and convince my own heart to stop racing. I have a quick flash of déjà vu, of saying those exact words—“We’ve got this”—as we fist bumped in orbit around al-Rihla for the first time. Right before we crashed. Was it really only a few days ago? I sigh and rub a hand over my face, wincing at the rasp of stubble against my palm. I must look like a total mess. My blood sings in my veins, making my skin hypersensitive, my nerves electric. Every sense is on high alert, ready to be shot at again, ready to dodge, to run, to fight. Speaking of which . . .
“How are the shields recovering from the beating we took? Any lasting damage to the ship?”
Case blows out a breath and recenters herself, letting her hands fly with confidence over the navigator’s console. “I’ve diverted the power from the guns to recharging the shields. We were at five percent when we jumped. Thirty percent and climbing now. We were lucky. They held just long enough for us to get to the jump point. No damage.”
More of a lessening of panic than a true feeling of relief, but I’ll take it. “Asra, do you have a message or something to send once we’re in comm range?”
She hums an “I’m busy” noise in reply, the lightning-fast taps of her fingers audible even over the rumbling of our engines. “I have a . . . data packet that . . . and I should be . . .”
She never does finish any of those sentences, but I assume they mean she has it under control. I don’t entirely know what we could say in this instance th
at could really help. What will the people do, evacuate the whole planet in a matter of minutes? Conduct a planetwide raid for anything with the Earth First circle logo on it? What can we do, once we send our message?
“Comm range in three . . . two . . .” Case counts down, then flips a switch. The bridge is instantly filled with a cacophony of static and garbled voices, dozens of messages broadcast in the clear.
“Can’t . . . whole area is . . . can you—?”
“—please repeat . . . our signal is—”
“—you try on . . . all frequen—s not our comm—”
“What the hell?” Case cranks the volume down with a lip curl of annoyance. “Why is everything so broken up?”
“My data packet won’t go through, either,” Asra says, her voice high and tight. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her shaking her tablet in irritation, like that will help somehow. “Something must be—”
“Jamming,” Case jumps in. “Kind of. There’s a signal clogging up all the communication channels. I’ve tried every comm method we have, and even tight beam calls aren’t working. Something’s interfering with all communication planetwide.”
I bang the armrest of my chair and let loose a frustrated growl. “Something like an endlessly repeated signal, maybe? Could that drown everything out?”
“Look. The same pattern,” Asra says. She unhooks herself from her restraints and clings to the side of Case’s chair, swiping through the data on Case’s display. “It’s still in the early phases, still working to get control over the whole network.”
“This is the first step,” Case says. “The prep work before the kill signal goes out. What do we do?”
Asra and Case bend their heads together, studying the signal patterns and muttering. I huff an exasperated sigh. Not fast enough. I feel like my bones want to crawl out of my skin, like I’m going to scream uncontrollably if we don’t do something right now.
I take a deep breath and drum my fingers against my chair’s armrests. We’ve come up on Tau’ri’s outer orbit, so I slot us in with the other space junk, though no traffic controller has directed me to do so. Understandably, since they couldn’t get through to us if they tried. “Do we have a plan yet?”
The Disasters Page 21
