by Kyle, Celia
“But you work with Project Blue Dawn.”
“I don’t know anything about who I work for. I work for me and I do what my captain tells me to do. I don’t ask questions. I don’t disobey. I just follow orders.”
“No matter what those orders could mean for others, yes?”
Licking his lips nervously, he manages to nod.
“And I assume that means you have one of those access lanyards that will allow me use of the lift system as well as ingress throughout the ship?”
With shaking hands, moving very slowly so I don’t get spooked, he withdraws the lanyard from a belt pouch and holds it up for my inspection.
“Excellent. Toss it over here.”
Due to his nervousness, perhaps, he throws it only a few short feet to land between us.
In the split second it takes me to glance at the lanyard lying on the deck plating, he goes for his weapon. But I’m just a little bit faster, or perhaps I have an itchy trigger finger. In either event, he slops into a puddle of gore on the deck plating, mingling with the blood and ooze of his fellows.
Snatching up his lanyard, I carefully step over what’s left of the bodies and onto the lift. My lanyard works like a charm, but which deck is Thrase likely to be upon?
Most likely her lab. I recognize this ship’s schematic design as a Mephisto class Capital War vessel. Three times the size of the Ancestral Queen, with probably five times the artillery. I’m not sure who Solair found to accompany him on his assault—the captain said we were under attack by two vessels—but unless it’s another capital class ship, they’re woefully outgunned.
I ride the lift up to deck four and ready my weapons in case there’s company waiting. As it turns out, there is. The doors recede into the walls and I’m faced with three Star Crusher grunts, who clearly were not expecting to see my gap-toothed smile.
“What the hell is this?” one of them manages to sputter.
“Certain death.”
I melt him with my weak force pistol while opening fire with the spread shot. Another falls to the floor, spurting blood from a gaping hole in his neck.
But the third scrambles for the meager cover of a box-like coolant relay and braces his rifle to return fire. Ducking back into the lift, I reload my weapons as he sends a stream of fire inside the car.
“This is Riggs, I need backup on deck four, the Kilgari is here.”
Fuck.
The sounds of booted feet in the corridor heralds the advent of a barrage of weapons fire. I count at least six different weapons discharging. Not good odds, even with my superior armament.
Grabbing one of the plasma grenades off my bandoleer, I dial it to minimum yield, less than ten feet. We should be far enough inside the hull to avoid a rupture, but it never hurts to be certain.
I poke my shoulder and arm out just enough to toss it and then return to my cover position. A bullet grazes my bicep, and my skin grows wet with blood, but then the plasma grenade explodes with a dull thump.
A metallic aroma akin to dried blood reaches my nostrils at the same time their screams reach my ears. Stepping out of the lift, I see bodies strewn about the corridor, most of them missing limbs. Or heads. Those still writhing about in agony find that their torment is short lived when I melt them into goo with my pistol.
Then it’s a short jog to an x junction, and then a left turn to where Thrase’s lab is located. Using the lanyard, I easily gain access, but when the doors slide open, she’s nowhere to be found.
Damn it. Where is she? They trust her now, I know it, thanks to my “torture.” Maybe… maybe she’s on the uppermost deck where that arrogant sot Dr. Mal likely has quarters. He’d want to be in the safest, most secure place possible.
Racing back to the lift, I ride it to the top deck. When I step out of the doors, I have to creep past the bridge where Soandzo and his men are frantically trying to target the elusive Ancestral Queen. I see her glorious golden-skinned hull flash by the main view screen, smoking from a few damaged points but still space worthy. Swipt is a fantastic pilot, and the Queen’s only advantage in this battle is her speed.
Another ship races past, looking almost like a tentacled sea creature. I don’t recognize that design at all. Must be a custom job. But if they’re shooting at the bad guys, I don’t care if they’re flying a magic carpet.
Unfortunately, the second ship has also suffered damage in the fight. They’re giving this Mephisto Capital class ship holy hell, but the outcome isn’t really in doubt.
I need to find Thrase and then we need to devise a means of leaving this ship. Once we’re clear, the Queen and her unlikely ally can jump to super luminal speed and escape.
Sounds so easy, but I know it won’t be.
The doors opposite the bridge have got to be Mal’s quarters. At least, I desperately hope they are.
Using the lanyard, I gain access. As soon as I step onto the thick carpet, I realize Thrase isn’t here. I do see a pair of legs thrust out at an awkward angle from behind the kitchen counter, however.
Dr. Mal has seen better days. His face is covered in blood, and there’s a knot on the side of his temple that probably indicates a concussion. A broken bottle of spirits lies nearby, its contents soaked into the carpet.
But no Thrase. Damn it, woman, where are you?
Dr. Mal stirs, and manages to push himself up onto hands and knees. Just as he looks up at me through a haze of agony, I kick him flush in the mouth, sending him back to dreamland.
I’d love to kill him, but there’s no practical need. Still, just one squeeze of my trigger, and Dr. Mal and his bigotry would be no more…
But then, I would be just like him. Wouldn’t I?
“I’m not you.” I reload my pistol with another charge and glare down at him. “And I never will be.”
With that, it’s back to the lift. I have find Thrase, but first I’ll secure our means of escape. That means I need to take over this ship’s hangar bay.
Down I go, to the bottommost deck. Along the way, the ship lurches a few times as the Queen and her unknown ally continue to raise nine kinds of hell. I mouth a prayer to the Precursors to protect them just a bit longer.
The cargo bay doors are secured, of course, but my lanyard gives me easy entry. It’s not a full-sized hangar bay like on a starcraft carrier, but it’s still three times the size of the Queen’s cargo bay.
And it’s not empty. A dozen Star Crushers turn about to face me, stopping their task of arming a fission torpedo as long as one of the Queen’s shuttles.
Every one of them is armed, though most only have slug-thrower pistols. Still, the odds are not in my favor as I scramble for cover behind an arcing support strut. Bullets ricochet all about the bay, shells hitting the floor like rain.
Bullet casings aren’t the only things striking the deck plating. My wounded bicep is bleeding pretty bad. Didn’t get an artery, but he may have nicked a vein. If I had a moment to spare, I’d cauterize it with the heated barrel of my spread shot rifle, but I don’t even have a nanosecond.
I can’t risk using a grenade down here with that fission torpedo waiting to explode. There are other munitions as well, not to mention we’re at the thinnest part of the hull. I’d rather not be sucked out into the vacuum of space.
With a flick of my thumb, I change the weak force pistol to constant emission mode and then fire blindly around the support strut. I don’t actually manage to hit anyone, but I do send them scrambling for cover beneath the decommissioned hull of a Dart, an Alliance star fighter of great agility but limited fire power.
The momentary break in their fire is all I need. Using the spread shot, I take out two and three of them at once, perforating their bodies like human pincushions. As their screams fade into eternal silence, I realize I’ve won.
The hangar bay is mine. But there’s no way that Dart is going to fly with all of its electronic components ripped out, not to mention there’s no cockpit shield.
So how in the hell are Thrase and I going to get off
this ship before the Queen and her ally are scattered across the cosmos?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Thrase
Flattening myself against the corridor wall, I wait until the half-dozen Star Crushers race past in formation, their grim faces drawn into somber grimaces. From time to time the ship rocks as it endures weapons fire from the Ancestral Queen and her mysterious ally, which I take as a good omen. As long as the battle continues, my friends are still alive.
Somewhere on this ship, Zander is raising hell, which also is cause for elation. Now that he has his potent gear back, I almost pity the Star Crushers and their ilk.
Almost.
Using the lanyard, I gain access to the lab chamber where Num is being held captive. Upon sight of the miserable, gray and drooping butterfly-like insectoid creature, I feel a great swell of pity. He’s—I’m assuming it’s male, but I don’t actually know—on his last legs. Just another crime to the ever-expanding list perpetrated by Dr. Mal and his Earth First cronies.
But I’m going to save him. And I hope, in return, he’s willing to save me.
Dr. Mal used a multi phasic transfer array to draw energy from Num’s partially incorporeal body, rending him fully solid and basically administering a death sentence. That Dr. Mal doesn’t care his test subject will likely die is more proof of what a devil the man really is.
“Hang on, little guy.” I grab the wheeled emitter array and roll it over to the glass cube forming Num’s cage. It’s a strange looking apparatus, with a flexible armature attached to the base bearing a large metal cone with dozens of prismatic crystals arranged in a careful but chaotic pattern.
The energy should flow right through the glass, so I don’t need to take Num out of his cage. That’s good because I think just moving him at all might be too traumatic to survive. Struggling with the heavy power cable, I grunt and sweat my way across the lab floor until I manage to jam it into place.
Now that I’m fed right into the ship’s main power, it should be a simple matter of turning the device on. I glance down at Num one last time and then don a pair of dark safety goggles and flip the switch.
The energy matrix is powerful enough to produce a visual display, one so bright I would be blinded if not for the goggles. Num’s mouthparts open in a harsh screech, and I wince at the sound. I had not expected him to be in pain as part of the process.
I almost turn the machine off, prompted by his squeals of agony, but I stop myself when I realize it’s working. Already color is returning to his wings, shimmering pinks and purples in an ever-shifting chaotic miasma. He seems to be getting stronger, too, his antennae drooping less and less with each passing second.
If only he would stop screaming. It grows louder by the moment. Even though I know what I’m doing is saving his life, it still makes me cringe on the inside.
“Hang in there, Num. We’re almost there.”
Soon I have to throw my arm over my face because the pyrotechnic display grows so bright even the polarized lenses of my safety goggles are insufficient to protect my eyesight. It grows warmer by a dozen degrees, and I can see my bones flashing through my skin like an x ray.
The emitter array shorts out, sending a shower of sparks to burn holes right through my lab coat. Then the glass cage explodes, and everything in the room goes dark, including the overhead lights.
Cautiously, I pull my arm away from my face and see a faint glow through the goggles. Hooking my finger into the strap, I yank them down around my neck and then my mouth falls open in wonder at the beautiful sight before me. Num is no longer a gray, droopy insectoid, but a luminous being composed equally of energy and matter. His color pattern is ever shifting, but always remains in a spectrum of the shorter wavelengths of energy.
“Num? Are you all right?”
The critter flashes several times, long pulses interrupted by shorter ones. Again I am struck with wonder because I recognize the pattern as a form of language.
It’s Morse code. I have severely underestimated his intelligence, it seems. He’s flashing signals that I can interpret.
Am well. We leave.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I go to the door to press the control panel keypad and open it, but Num flies right at it—and melts a hole right through. “Neat trick but I can’t fit through that. Hey, wait up!”
I try the door panel, and it rises into the ceiling housing about halfway before it strikes the bubbled, melted edge of the hole Num tore through it. Ducking low, I move through in a crouch and come up into a dead run, chasing the luminescent insectoid sapient down the corridor.
My blood runs cold as we encounter a team of Star Crushers, no less than five of them. Their mustachioed leader shouts in alarm.
“The little freak is loose. Waste him.”
I throw myself to my belly on the floor of the corridor, fearing the worst, but their slug-thrower projectiles pass right through Num without harming him. Then the little critter flaps his six-foot wings and darts forward with far more speed than his anatomy should allow. He must be using his energy emanations for additional thrust.
Num passes through them, and the Crushers react as if they’ve stepped on a live wire. They spasm about, dropping to the floor and foaming at the mouth. He left them alive, which is something I wouldn’t have done in his position.
What kind of galaxy is it when a bug has more morality than a human being?
I shake off the notion and chase after him. Num flies into the lift at the end of the corridor and starts flashing code again.
Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
“I’m coming. I’m coming.” I join him in the lift but pause before telling it which deck I want to transfer to. Where should I go? The bridge? With Num’s help I might be able to take control of it, but I know precious little about how to pilot a massive, complex ship like this one.
As if in response to my confusion, Captain Soandzo’s voice emanates over the comms.
“Attention, all available crew, the hangar bay has been compromised. Enter with caution.”
Only one person on board could have compromised the hangar bay. Zander. He’s still alive. My love is still alive. I simply have to reach him.
My finger jams the control panel a dozen times, instructing the lift to take us to the bottom most deck. When we come out of the lift, at least ten armored Crushers are trying to breach the hangar bay’s massive doors.
“Sic ‘em, Num.”
These Star Crushers are more heavily armored and carry plasma beam rifles. I fear for Num’s safety as they fire a barrage, but I forgot that he absorbs energy. Slowly his color grows brighter as they empty their clips trying to bring him down. I have to turn my head away because of Num’s intensely bright glow.
Then he releases that stored energy in the form of twin beams from his eyes. I can only perceive this because of the reflection in the deck plating. The Star Crusher’s class-four hard armor melts like butter under a sun lamp, burning the men inside of it alive.
I can’t help vomiting at the smell of burned flesh, but I don’t waste my pity on the Star Crushers. We didn’t start this fight, not even close.
Rushing up to the hangar bay doors, I jam my finger on the two-way hailing comm.
“Zander? Are you in there?”
I wait a few agonizing moments before I get a response.
“Thrase?” His tone is rife with a mix of disbelief and elation. “Is it really you, my jalshagar?”
“It’s really me, Zander. Oh god, I’m so glad you’re all right.”
“Likewise. Hang on, I’ll buzz you in.”
The doors slide apart, and I rush into his arms. We hold each other tightly as the doors slide shut once more, and Num just kind of hovers there as a silent witness.
Zander notices the insectoid sapient for the first time and stumbles backward, reaching for his pistol.
“No, Zander. He’s on our side”
“Good. We need all the help we can get.”
“Indeed.” I
look about the hangar bay and notice the carnage. “You have been quite busy.”
Zander chuckles and then gestures about in disgust.
“There’s no escape pods or shuttle craft to be found. I’m afraid we’re stuck here in this hangar bay.”
“Could we try to take the bridge?”
“I’ve considered that, but they’ve locked down the lifts from reaching the top deck with blast doors. Maybe Fiona could hack their systems from here, but I certainly cannot. It’s not in my purview.”
“Mine either. Hopefully the Queen and that strange ship will be able to win—why are you shaking your head? Don’t you have faith in Solair and the rest of the crew?”
“I have plenty of faith in their mettle, but not their metal. This is a Mephisto class capital warship. Even with our recent upgrades to armament, the Queen can’t hope to do enough damage to disable her.”
My heart sinks as I realize he’s right. The last time we faced off against a capital class ship, we only won because of the Kaan maneuver, a technique where one uses a star’s corona as a weapon of mass destruction. We’re far away from any stars at the moment.
“Then what can we do?”
I gesture at the dismantled star fighter. What do they call them? Arrows?
“Could we use that?”
“Maybe… with your able help.”
I grin and pick up a coil spanner.
“To engage in my penchant for the vernacular, let’s get cracking.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zander
“Hand me that biter, will you?”
Thrase looks up at me with a grease-streaked expression of confusion.
“That what, now?”
“Sorry. The driver unit with the orange handle.”
“Right.” She tosses the driver into my waiting palm and I slide back under the Dart’s chassis to finish the armature attachments, which will allow us to carry the fission torpedo into battle.
Or at least, I hope it will. I’m a little concerned about the heat from the afterburners accidentally causing a short, which will make the torpedo detonate before launch. I calculate a 3.789 percent probability that it will do so. Under the circumstances, I can live with those odds.
