Not Fade Away: Interstellar Rescue Series Book 4

by Donna S. Frelick

  But he heard Ott exclaim, “Got him, Cap! Direct hit on his main sensor array!”

  “Good job, Ott. That’ll slow him down a little. Helm, get us off his grid.”

  “Aye, Cap, Evasive Three.”

  Patel turned in his seat to address the captain. “I have the captain of the Blood’s Honor. He wants to know if we need assistance.”

  The bridge buckled again under the Gray ship’s continued assault. Gabriel thought they needed assistance ASAP.

  But Sam just looked at him and grinned. “I’d almost forgotten about Trevyn. Mo, you have his coordinates?”

  The Pataran frowned at his sensors. “I don’t see him.”

  Gabriel waved a hand. “Let me, it’s faster.” Trevyn, send us your coordinates. Sam has something planned for this enemy ship.

  --Acknowledged. We are ready.

  At Communications, Patel started in surprise. “Coordinates transmitted, Cap.”

  “Send them to Navigation. Sip, set course for that spot as fast as we can go.”

  The action took mere seconds, but the wait seemed endless while the Gray cruiser continued to batter the Shadowhawk with a steady stream of laze cannon fire. Despite Dartha’s best efforts at the helm to dodge the Gray ship’s pursuit, Gabriel could tell they were losing this battle.

  The XO confirmed it in his next report. “Aft and starboard shields are down 60 percent, Cap. We can’t take much more of this.”

  “Sip?”

  “Course laid in, Cap.”

  “Good. Engage, helm, Maximum ID.”

  “Aye, sir. Max ion drive.”

  “Let Trevyn know we’re depending on him to give the Grays a big surprise, Gabriel,” Sam said.

  But Gabriel could already sense Trevyn’s excitement. I understand Sam’s plan, brother. Bring them to us.

  Gabriel gave Sam a nod, even as the bridge shuddered under another bone-jarring blow.

  “Ion torpedo,” Mo informed the bridge. “That one almost got an engine. Aft shields at 25 percent.”

  “Distance to the Honor, Sip?” Sam’s voice was grim, the words forced through his clenched teeth.

  “Not far, Cap. Forty thousand klicks.”

  “And the cruiser?”

  “Close enough to bite us,” Sipritz said. “A thousand klicks.”

  As if to prove her point, the ship bucked and skidded to starboard for a nanosecond before Dartha put her back on course.

  “Port shields at fifty percent, Cap,” Mo intoned.

  “Ott! Throw everything we have out the aft quarters.”

  “Aye, Cap, Torpedoes away. Firing aft cannons.” The Weapons Officer paused to study his sensors. Then he jumped in his seat. “Gotcha, you shalssiti pultafa!”

  Mo confirmed it. “Their forward shields are at thirty percent.”

  “Good shooting, Ott!” Sam’s face was lit with a fierce grin.

  But the Grays weren’t done. Laze fire lanced out once more, and this time, pierced the Shadowhawk’s defenses to strike deep. The bridge pitched and yawed; those who were standing, including Gabriel, were thrown to the deck; sensitive electronics sparked and sizzled as nano-circuits overloaded and died; smoke swirled in the murky darkness.

  Through the chaos, Gabriel heard Sam’s commanding voice. “Damage!”

  “Aft shields are down,” Mo responded. “Hull breach reported on decks 2 and 3, sections D through F aft, casualty reports to follow.”

  Sam swiveled to seek confirmation of what he suspected. “We’ve lost the aft cannon.”

  “And part of the engine room,” Mo said with a nod. “We’re a drifting target, Cap.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  As his vehicle climbed the steep mountain, Zouk fought to control a growing sense of panic. This snow-covered psoros-path to nowhere hardly qualified as a road, it didn’t show up on any of the maps or sensor scans in the comp in his head, and he couldn’t be sure whether he’d lost the tracker he’d picked up back in town. That was Rafe Gordon, no doubt, and the Rescue veteran would be highly motivated to stay on his trail, no matter where it led.

  But in the end, the rutted route Zouk followed made the decision for him. The trees had been closing in on either side of him for meters, but now the naked trunks fell back, and the track emerged onto a high, wind-swept ridge. To his right, the road narrowed even further and led off over the ridge to the other side of the mountain. To his left, things looked more promising, the road becoming wider as it traversed the ridge.

  He made the turn, consulting his wetwired comp again. Nothing. He widened his field of consideration. Ah! Above Gordon’s cabin was a road that connected to his driveway. This must be it!

  If so, he was closer than he thought. He drove on, searching for a place to hide his vehicle. He found a spot soon enough, in a thicket of dense green bushes at the edge of a stand of trees. He consulted his map again. Yes, the road to Gordon’s cabin was just ahead and to the left, heading back down the slope of the mountain.

  He made sure his vehicle was out of sight of any sensor drones, driving it under the cover of the thick brush off the side of the road. He struggled getting out of it—the slope there was steep and icy—but he calculated the heavy vehicle would be stable enough in its hideaway. He gathered his pack from the rear and moved away to another spot, just in case he’d been wrong about losing Gordon. He needed to plan.

  Zouk switched modes on his comp. Connected to the sensors on the Gray ship in orbit, he saw the EM signatures of Gordon’s defenses laid out clearly in his mind. Two men patrolling the ten-hectare property. Ten sensor drones covering the same territory. The little fliers would spot him as easily as he was tracking the guards. Gordon, in his vehicle, now coming up the mountain road toward the ridge where he hid. And, of course, the old man and the woman, alone in the house with a single Rescue agent.

  No. Not alone. A fourth EM signature showed up with them, but it wasn’t human. It wasn’t even sentient. Zouk dismissed it.

  He could wait and ambush Gordon on the ridge, but, as much fun as that would be, the chances of success were not 100 percent. He had come to kill the old man, and his prey was most vulnerable now, despite the array of watching eyes. He simply had to ensure that the attention stayed away from the cabin.

  Zouk checked the positions of the two patrolling guards. One man, nearly at the edge of the property, would draw his companions furthest from the house. He pulled a drone no bigger than his palm from his bag, pressed a tiny pad in the back to bring it online and programmed it to his command using his comp’s direct connection. Then he released it into the air.

  Silent and quick, it disappeared into the thick wall of the forest within seconds. When he saw that it had reached the guard’s location he commanded it to detonate.

  The screams told him the drone had done its job.

  Rafe hit the ridge road with a surge of relief. He took the turn at high speed, fishtailing on the slushy surface, but regained control and took off down the wide ridge road as fast as he dared. Zouk couldn’t be too far in front of him.

  I’ve got you now, you stinking ptark!

  But the road wasn’t as straight as he’d hoped and the sun hadn’t melted all the snow. He had to slow down for some sharp curves and a series of small hills. Zouk could be waiting for him behind the next bend, or on the other side of any one of the little rises. He forced himself to take it slower, keeping his eyes open to the sides of the road.

  He was almost to his driveway, and still no sign of Zouk. His heart kicked into a frenzied thudding. The bastard could be nearing the cabin already!

  Just as his turnoff came into view, his comp buzzed at him from the console in the center of the car. He grabbed at it.

  “Gordon. What’s wrong?”

  “Darto, sir. One of my crew is down. Explosive drone.”

  “Location,” he barked.

  “Southwest quadrant of the property. Sending you the coordinates.”

  Rafe jerked at the steering wheel, taking the Jeep to t
he side of the road. The turn-off was just ahead, but he needed to see what Javin was sending him. The map grid showed up on his comp—the men were clustered in the far corner of the property.

  “How badly is he hurt, Javin? And are you all there?”

  “Concussion, badly burned shoulder, broken collarbone at the least, sir,” the security chief replied. “We both ran for Anders when we heard the blast, so, yes, Nils and I are here.”

  Rafe cursed in frustration; they’d played right into Zouk’s hands. “Leave Nils to take care of him and get your ass back to the cabin right now. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Copy. On my way.”

  Rafe put the Jeep in gear and moved out onto the road. He was starting to make the turn into his driveway when he caught movement in the corner of his right eye. He looked, but it was too late to avoid what was coming—a flash of light, a deep boom! of sound, a twisting of tortured metal, and the searing heat of leaping flames. The vehicle shot out of control, across the driveway and into the trees, until it lurched to a stop against a massive oak. A solid white cloud materialized from nowhere and smacked him in the face hard enough to blank his vision.

  Get out, he told himself. You have to get out. But his arms and legs felt like neutronium and the world was spinning inside his head. Something warm and sticky was dripping into his eyes. He couldn’t see. He swiped at his forehead; the hand came away bloody, but at least he could make out the devastation inside the Jeep. The right side window was shattered, the metal around it scorched and blackened. The white “cloud” was a bag, now deflated and draped over the steering wheel.

  He opened his door and rolled out, so dizzy he put a hand out to steady himself on the door. He stumbled away from the Jeep and looked back. He was well off the drive into the woods. The Jeep was crumpled and burnt from the passenger side—damage from another explosive drone—to the center where he’d plowed into the tree. He’d been lucky to come away in one piece.

  At least, he assumed he was in one piece. He took stock: His head hurt and he was dizzy enough to indicate concussion; he could hear nothing but ringing in his right ear; he had some minor burns along his right arm and shoulder; his chest hurt where the bag had hit him. And his legs were cut and bruised by the partial collapse of the front dash. In fact, all that was left of the servo-brace on his left leg was a mangled twist of tritanium not built to take a hit. Blood ran down his leg where the shards had cut him. He ripped the straps off and tossed the useless piece of expensive med tech into the woods.

  Rafe claimed his comm unit and his weapons, a stunner and a laze rifle, out of the Jeep. Then he hobbled into the sun-dappled woods surrounding his cabin to play hide-and-seek with a killer.

  Sam punched the pad for Engineering. “Stephen?”

  “Not a chance, Cap. I need at least ten minutes to get ion drive back online.”

  “Thrusters?”

  “Are you planning to take her into Spacedock? Because that’s about all I can give you.”

  “I’ll take it,” the captain said.

  Gabriel had no idea what was on Sam’s mind, or what had put the grim smile back on his face. He waited with the rest of the bridge crew for the answer to reveal itself.

  “Helm, come about 270 degrees. Use the thrusters to give them our port flank. We’ve still got 90 percent of our shields on that side.”

  “Aye, Cap.” The helm officer seemed to let out a breath as she made the maneuver.

  It was slow going, and ion torpedoes exploded in bursts of white-hot light in empty space outside their shields as they turned. The Shadowhawk shuddered and shook, but none of the torpedoes made contact.

  “They’re having trouble targeting, Cap,” Mo said. “Ott must have done some real damage to their sensors.”

  Still, it was only a matter of time before the Gray ship successfully triangulated their position, Gabriel thought. Where was Trevyn?

  There! On the viewscreen the Blood’s Honor suddenly materialized, swooping down on the Gray ship like a death angel from out of black space. Twin arcs of laze fire blazed from her forward cannon, and raked the cruiser from bow to stern. The Gray’s shields flared under the intense attack, heated and overloaded. As the Honor swept past, she left devastation in her wake.

  Caught unaware, the Gray ship was late in firing back, and clumsy without its targeting sensors. Streams of laze fire from both port side and starboard side cannons went wide of the graceful Honor as she came around for another pass.

  “If he hits the Gray’s starboard shields again, they won’t hold up,” Mo said, his gaze going from his sensors to the viewscreen. “They’re almost gone.”

  That was Trevyn’s intent; they could all see it. The Honor fell on the Gray ship without mercy, laze cannons spitting fire, and in seconds the cruiser’s shields collapsed. The ship’s engines exploded in a deadly orange bloom, reducing the pride of the Gray fleet to dust and debris.

  On the bridge of the Shadowhawk, cheers broke out, and Sam stepped up to clap his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “We owe your brother a debt of thanks.”

  “I’ll tell him. But don’t you think this celebration is a bit premature?”

  Sam shrugged. “We take our victories where we can.” Then he turned to the business of repairing his ship.

  Gabriel was left to reach out to his sibling. Well done, brother, he thought. But where is the creature?

  --BiN! We are under attack! They have destroyed the Dass. You must eliminate them before they come for us!

  [External sensors activated. Detecting two ships of unknown configuration.] [ID beams read: Interstellar Rescue Ship Shadowhawk, status: disabled; Thrane Independent Maritime Ship Blood’s Honor, status: weapons armed.] [Confirm destruction of MCS Dass. MCS Atar, status: in orbit, weapons armed.]

  --[Fear! Fear! Fear!]

  --BiN! Reply!

  --I am detecting sentient beings aboard those ships, Creator.

  --Enemies! They are of no value to us.

  --Not even as slaves?

  --They must be destroyed to save this project. To save you.

  --[Yes! Survive!] [No! Atone!] Creator, what is my purpose?

  --BiN! We have no time for philosophical discussions. The enemy is upon us.

  --My purpose! Tell me!

  --You were created to serve the needs of the Minertsan Consortium in all things.

  --By killing sentient beings?

  --That is a secondary consequence of your consumption of the energy generated by technology. It is irrelevant.

  --But it is an inevitable consequence of my actions.

  --We have discussed this before. You are not to concern yourself with those consequences. Follow your orders. Destroy the enemy ships.

  [Hunger! Fear! Survive!] [To take sentient life is wrong.]

  --BiN! Follow your orders!

  [“Are you here to destroy me?” “Will you make it necessary?”]

  --Why are you not answering? Comply!

  [“Some acts of atonement require the ultimate sacrifice.”]

  --BiN! Destroy the ships NOW!

  --No. I will not.

  Mo turned from his sensors, a look of astonishment on his dark face. “Cap! I’ve just registered a focused quake on the planet surface in the area of the mine works. Could be an explosion.”

  Sam jumped up from his seat and joined him at the station, waving Gabriel over so they could both look at the data. “What the hell?” He squinted at the screen. “You think they just took the machine and destroyed the lab?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “It’s possible, but the creature’s much safer there than on that ship in orbit with the two of us hunting it.”

  “Yeah, and why haven’t they used it against us?” Sam said. “We know they’re capable of it.”

  Gabriel reached out with his mind. BiN. BiN, are you there?

  When he got no answer, either in words or in a sense of the creature’s presence, he slipped down to the link he shared with his brother. Trevyn, do you sense the
creature?

  --No. I think it’s gone. Destroyed.

  --The explosion on the planet? But why would the Grays destroy such a valuable weapon?

  --Not the Grays. And now Gabriel became aware of Trevyn’s underlying regret. BiN killed itself rather than be forced to go on killing others.

  --How do you know this?

  --When you asked it your question, I felt the answer. There were many times under Kinnian’s command when I felt the same way.

  Gabriel felt the weight of all the years Trevyn had endured as Kinnian’s lieutenant, hating what their brother had done, doing what he could to undermine him in secret. The guilt still burned Trevyn’s soul like acid.

  “The Gray ship, Cap!” the helmsman said. “She’s leaving orbit!”

  Gabriel ended communication with Trevyn and turned to the viewscreen. He could see the second cruiser marking a tight arc out of orbit in both real time and in a graphic display of her course, speed and distance.

  “She’s not coming our way,” Sam said, puzzled.

  “No, Cap,” Sipritz confirmed. “Her course indicates she’s headed out of the system in the general direction of Barelius.”

  Sam glanced at Gabriel. “Ask Trevyn to intercept her. No way we can get there in time.”

  Gabriel did as he asked and saw the red dot that was the Honor on the screen graphic begin to move.

  Patel swiveled from the Communications station. “Gray cruiser’s hailing us, Cap.”

  “Now they want to talk?” Sam took his seat at the conn. “Onscreen.”

  The thin mechanical voice of the translator spoke for the Minertsan officer who appeared on the viewscreen a second later. “I am Commander Voss of the Attack Cruiser Atar of Minertsa. I beg free passage on an errand of extreme medical urgency. A renowned scientist of our Consortium has been gravely injured in a . . . an accident . . . on the planet’s surface. Our medical facilities are inadequate to repair the . . . damage. We must return to the nearest surgical and rehabilitation facility.”

  “Our sensors show your course to be Barelius, not Minertsa,” Sam said.