by C. S. Harte
Alyana turned to Dren.
He returned her stare while shaking his head. “I don’t…” He dropped his shoulders. “Sometimes, I see ghosts. Sometimes, they speak to me and tell me things. I don’t really understand how or why I can.”
The navigation console beeped.
Alyana glanced at the terminal. “We’re at the Eternal Graveyard. There’s too much debris for the auto-pilot to function.” She updated the main viewscreen to show the wreckage in front of the Valor.
“This is the first time I’ve been here…” Dren furrowed his brow. “I’ve heard stories about how many ships were destroyed here. This is more than I imagined.”
The graphic violence of Jonas’ video replayed in Alyana’s mind against her will. She tried to cut it off, but her efforts only made it more vivid. The brutality chilled her to the core. There was a time when Jonas was like a brother to her. She thought she could help him get over the death of Saera, his sister, by merely being in his life. How wrong was I? Never in a million nightmares could she picture the monster Jonas had become.
“We cannot stay here,” Samara said. “There will be Chordan patrols.”
“This debris field is tighter than an asteroid belt,” Alyana said. “We have to go through it slowly, one-tenth ion engines.”
“That was a capital-class ship wasn’t it?” Dren pointed at a hunk of jagged metal 5500 meters wide. “Wait…” His eyes narrowed. “Something is coming out of it…” Dren updated the viewscreen.
“I don’t see anything…” Alyana’s eyes darted back and forth.
“There!” He pointed toward a glinting speck of silver. “It just moved out from the wreckage.”
Alarms sounded on the bridge.
“That is a Chorda Seeker,” Samara said.
“That’s a ship?” Alyana asked while zooming in on the enemy spacecraft. “I’ve never seen a ship like that. Its design is more like a hand weapon than a craft.”
The Chorda Seeker had the appearance of a broad-tipped arrowhead connected to two curved talons arching away, forming wings. Most of its body was a silvery-pearl color. Metallic gold lined the edges of its nose and wings, its tail painted an ocean blue. Waves of cerulean light pulsed from both wings, giving it the illusion of being covered in a shield of water.
“Measurements: 78 meters from aft to bow and 112 meters from port to starboard,” Dren read from tactical station output. “I’m not seeing any armaments.”
“These are scout ships,” Samara said. “They carry two fana — missiles in your language — per craft. Should that not be enough, they are expected to ram into you and detonate.”
“Can our shields withstand the destructive force of a fana?” Alyana asked.
“I am unfamiliar with battles involving spacecrafts. It is unlikely your archaic defensive technology can withstand Chordan offensive weapons.”
“But we’re cloaked,” Dren said, “It shouldn’t be able to see us, right?”
“Let’s test that theory.” Alyana executed a 90-degree turn away from the Chordan ship.
“It changed course!” Dren pointed.
“How is that possible?” Alyana’s eyes surged open as she recalled an important detail. “The explosion back on star dock… I almost forgot.” She switched to the aft cameras. “We’re venting hydrogen exhaust from the engines. Voids! I was so caught up in the Jonas video…”
“Captain, sensors are picking up two more scout ships.”
“Odd,” Samara said. “Usually there are at least six to a squadron.”
“You’re just full of good news aren’t you?” Alyana rolled her eyes. “Well, my sleazy foster father didn’t teach me much except for one thing: never fight an unfair fight.” Alyana learned that lesson from her days as an Alliance smuggler masquerading as a ship for foster children. “Hang on, we’re gonna cut through the debris field and see how good Chordan pilots really are…”
“We must reach Earth at all costs,” Samara said.
“This might not be the best time to say this, but, is Earth really the best place to go?” Dren asked. “It’s crawling with Chordas and aren’t we trying to avoid Chordas?”
“You’re right.” Alyana nodded. “Not the best time to bring this up.”
“Where would we go on Earth? What would we do there?” Dren asked.
“We are not safe in this universe,” Samara said. “We must find one that is.”
“What is she talking about?” Dren asked.
Alyana gave him a sideways stare but left the question unanswered.
“Do not let the Seekers near you,” Samara said. “You will regret it.”
Proximity alarms sounded.
“Too late…” Dren whispered.
19
Alyana stared at the main viewscreen with the alien fighter ships closing in sharply from multiple angles. They were trying to box in the Valor. So far, not one part of the escape from Salvation Station had gone as planned. Doubts crept into her mind. Should I have tried to appeal to Jonas before going against him? Maybe the old Jonas was still in there somewhere…
“Captain Harrows?” Dren yanked her from her thoughts. “We need to do something quick, or else we’ll be trapped.”
“The Valor is a Zephyr-class ship.” Alyana switched to a wider camera angle to show more of the debris field. “If we can just make it inside… We should be able to outmaneuver them and hide in the densest part of the wreckages.” She steered the craft into the heart of the Eternal Graveyard.
“Can’t we outrun these fighters?” Dren asked Samara.
“Not in this archaic vessel.”
Alyana tired of listening to Samara denigrate her ship. The alien woman had no idea the role the Valor played in saving mankind.
“It is not personal, Alyana Harrows.” Samara held her chin up. “I am merely stating a fact.”
With the engines fully charged, the Valor had full propulsion capacity. It was debatable if they could outrun the enemy or not, but they could at least maintain their lead.
“I’ve scanned ahead and plotted an optimal route through the debris field,” Dren said.
“I’m not looking for the optimal route. I’m looking for the most difficult.”
“Captain?”
“I’m betting those metal mosquitos can’t or won’t follow us through all the narrow passages and anything with explosive hazard potential.”
Dren shook his head but complied. Objects moved at 1.6 million meters per second in the field. Lanes between debris opened and closed without warning. He relayed the tactical sensor data directly to Alyana’s console.
The main viewscreen updated with a three-dimensional map of the Eternal Graveyard. Geometric blocks represented the remains of dead battleships. A thick green ribbon wove through the field wherever there was a narrow distance between wrecks, highlighting the plotted course.
“Switching to manual flight controls,” Alyana said. With a tap of a button, a holographic joystick and control system appeared over her console. She slipped her hands into the controls and used it to steer the Valor.
The Valor accelerated into the massive 22 million square kilometer debris field, barely dodging its first challenge, the split-in-half hull of the CMS Maine.
“Are they still following us?” Alyana asked.
“Yes,” Dren said while focusing on his console. “I’m reading more movements — a whole squadron of six ships just lit up on sensors.”
“More Chorda Seekers?”
“Not sure.” He wrinkled his brow. “The ship configurations are similar.”
“Show the new ones on the viewscreen.” Samara directed.
“Sure.” Dren updated the monitor. “There, two o’clock. 225,000 kilometers and closing.”
“Can your primitive ship enhance and enlarge the image?”
Alyana groaned. “Just do it, Dren. I need all my concentration on flying.”
“Zooming in,” he said.
“I see,” Samara stood. “Hail them o
n the following frequency.” She typed into her Obscura suit wrist terminal.
“You know how to use our technology?” Dren asked.
“Chorda children play with more complicated toys.” She scoffed.
“They’ve accepted the hail request,” Dren said.
The screen changed to show a Chorda pilot wearing a yellow and green flight suit. A series of sharp clicks and long, drawn out cries came through the ship’s speakers, unintelligible to the human ear.
Samara replied using the same alien tongue, much slower in elocution.
The Chorda pilot’s eyes widened as she spoke. He bobbed his head quickly, nodding several times. When Samara finished speaking, the pilot turned his head and disconnected the comm link.
“What did you say to him?” Alyana asked.
“I simply told him who I was.”
“The new squadron of Chordan fighters have changed course, Captain,” Dren said. “They are no longer on an intercept path.”
“Where are they heading now?”
“They appear to be on an intercept course with the three Seekers chasing us.”
“I have instructed them to eliminate the distraction behind us,” Samara said.
“Are you a military commander?” Dren asked.
“How insulting for you to think so low of me.” Samara pinched her face.
“OK, I don’t care about this right now,” Alyana jumped in. “All I want to know is, are we safe? Or do I keep performing piloting miracles over here?”
“The allied Chordan pilots will sacrifice their lives to protect mine if need be. Their families would fall into shame should something happen to a Voice allied with their Archon during their watch.”
“You couldn’t have called them out earlier?” Alyana groaned. “Adjusting course through safer lanes.” She slowed the Valor and proceeded with more caution through the remaining parts of the debris field. “Say, I wouldn’t mind having people protect me like their life depended on it. Is it possible for me to become a Voice?”
“No, it is not,” Samara replied without a note of humor.
“Figures.” She sighed. “I never get the good jobs in all of this.”
“We have allies?” Dren glanced at Samara. “They would attack other Chordan ships to protect us?”
“There is no direct human word for this type of ancestral, mutually beneficial relationship between two houses of Chorda. The hierarchy of Chordan loyalty commands them to grant me safe passage even at the cost of other Chordans.”
“I’ll just stick with ‘allies’ if that’s OK with you,” Dren said. “Our allies have engaged the other three ships.” He updated the main screen with an overlay of the combat. Six blue dots represented allied fighters; three red ones for the enemy. The blue ones quickly disabled one enemy Seeker. The other two ran away from the Valor. “The enemies are fleeing… Wait… They destroyed a second one.”
“Is that it? No more enemies?” Alyana asked Samara.
“The fighters will escort us to Earth.”
“Why are we going to Earth?” Dren asked. “I don’t think you’ve covered that.”
“We are not safe in this universe,” Samara said. “We must return to mine.”
A cynical part of Alyana’s mind voiced itself. What if all this is a trick to get me, a high ranking Fleet military official, to help her escape and capture me for interrogation? What if I’m under the influence of her mind control? As far as Alyana was aware, she was in control of her own thoughts and actions.
“I have told you nothing but the truth Alyana Harrows. Atua Leaga is the most serious threat to all our people. This evil has already corrupted your Jonas Barick.” She moved in between Dren and Alyana. “My life served no purpose in your prison. My role is vital in the struggle against Atua Leaga. Both of you have shown yourself valuable. Together, I have no doubts we will be successful in our quest.”
Dren looked up into Samara’s eyes. “I don’t know who or what this Atua Leaga is. I’m not too concerned about them right now. All I care about is what I was promised: you helping me with the ghosts in my head and making the voices stop. And you…” He turned to Alyana, “You said you could help me free my clone brothers from being fodder in a war they did not start or choose to be a part of. Don’t think I’m here out of the goodness of my heart.”
The allied Chorda fighters hailed, interrupting the conversation. Five of the six survived and returned to escort the Valor in the last leg of the flight to Earth, taking positions around the ship.
Samara asked Dren to display a map of Earth. Once it appeared, she pointed to a spot in southern Mexico. “Our destination is there.”
“What’s there?” Alyana asked.
“An Anchor as you know them. A gateway to my universe.”
“Is there any path where it doesn’t require me going to another universe?” Dren bit his lip. “I haven’t settled into this one yet.”
Alyana had been so caught up in trying to escape Jonas’ grasp she hadn’t considered what it meant to be out of his reach. Jonas had access to unlimited Whispers who could find a particular Sarkh flea in a universe full of them. What choice do I have? Staying in this universe was suicide. The Defiled controlled all the outer colonies. “Where would you go Dren? How do you expect to stay alive by yourself when everyone in the universe is hunting you?”
“I don’t know, Captain Harrows. I’ve been a clone all my life which means I’ve never had a chance to make my own decisions. If I am to die, at least I’ll die a free person.”
“How silly humans are!” Samara sighed. “No one will die if you come with me. You have my covenant that as long as breath flows through my body, your safety is assured.”
A Chorda fighter ship exploded.
The Valor rumbled as the shock wave reached its hull.
“We’re under attack, Captain!” Dren tapped the tactical console.
“I can see that, but by who?” Alyana performed evasive maneuvers to avoid the wreckage of the Chorda ship.
“Displaying on screen now.”
The new enemy ship had the shape of a dagger. It measured 350 meters long and 75 meters wide. The exterior was a sleek black metal that camouflaged it perfectly against the emptiness of space.
“Streydrs,” Samara said.
“Who?” Dren asked.
“Not allies I take it?” Alyana asked. “Can’t you call in another blood pact favor?”
“No such favors exist with the Streydrs,” Samara answered.
“Why do members of the Defiled keep fighting each other?” Dren asked
“As I’ve said before, we are not whole in ideology and action.”
“How many enemies, Dren?”
“Sensors are having a hard time seeing them.”
“That is not a surprise,” Samara said. “Their ships are nearly invisible to Chordan technology. You cannot expect to find them with yours.”
“Great…” Alyana scowled.
“We should increase our haste to Earth.”
“I second that,” Dren said.
“ETA three minutes at full ion engines.”
The Valor rumbled again.
“Streydrs just took out more of our Chordan allies.”
Samara scoffed. “No doubt they have heard a Voice is on board this ship. They would be handsomely rewarded if they claimed my head.”
“What happens if we hand you over to them?” Dren asked.
“Dren!” Alyana screamed at him.
“I wasn’t saying we should…” He said. “And it looks like they’re gaining on us!”
“Something is wrong with the engine.” Alyana furrowed her brow. “We’re only moving at three-quarter speed.”
“Streydr Hammer ships generate a gravitational field, pulling their enemies toward them.”
“If they do that, they’re also pulling the wreckages toward them,” Alyana said.
“NO!” Dren shouted. “The wreckages are being pulled toward us!”
“I str
ongly advise you to fire your weapons,” Samara said.
Dren loaded all the Artemis missiles into the missile bay and fired a wide volley. The explosions shattered the wreckage of the CMS Britain that was flying toward them.
“Nice shooting!” Alyana cheered.
“Don’t cheer yet,” Dren said. “We’re being targeted! Four projectiles incoming!”
“I’m having a hard time maneuvering with the additional gravity…” Alyana fought to maintain control of the Valor.
“Impact in 20 seconds.”
“We need another 90 to get to Earth…” Alyana let her voice trail.
“It is unlikely your shields will hold against their weaponry,” Samara said.
The remaining Chorda fighters sacrificed themselves by ramming into the missiles.
“You weren’t kidding when you said they would sacrifice themselves!” Alyana yelled.
“Naturally, my life is more important than theirs.”
“60 seconds ‘til we reach Earth,” Alyana said. “I’m diverting all non-essential power to the engines. Should give us that little extra oomph...”
“They’re firing again!” Dren updated. “All the Chorda ships have been destroyed or incapacitated. There’s no one left to take a hit for us…”
“I fear the worst then,” Samara said in a neutral voice.
“Impact in 10…” Dren said.
“What do we do, Samara?” Alyana shouted.
“I do not have a solution to offer you.”
“Impact in 5…”
“We were so close…” Alyana mumbled to herself.
Three.
Two.
One.
Direct hit to the aft engine.
The Streydr weapon penetrated the Valor’s shield like it was nonexistent.
Explosions erupted across the entire aft side of the ship.
Violent shock waves launched everyone off their feet and out of their chairs.
Alyana rammed her head into a nearby bulkhead knocking her unconscious. No one was piloting the ship.
The Valor, now a flaming wreckage, made a trail of gas as it continued drifting into Earth’s atmosphere.
20
Dren hopped from tactical to navigation, kicking away Alyana’s body to make room for him at the console. The Valor’s engines were shot; steering inoperable. Nothing worked except the emergency thrusters he activated. He programmed them to push the battered ship toward Central Mexico.
