by S. E. Smith
She had remained silent, in shock and devastated. It had taken her three months before she realized that she wasn’t going to die from a broken heart. She decided she couldn’t die from one if she no longer had a heart to break. Instead, she filled it with a cold purpose—become a soldier, stand beside Tim and Destin and, if possible, kill the alien with the long dark hair.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Lina,” Gail softly called.
Lina blinked and raised her head. She moaned when she felt the stiffness in her neck and legs. She lifted a hand to her cheek, it felt stiff from her dried tears. She must have fallen asleep.
“What? What is it? Are we…?” She looked up and saw that they were still in the green crystal cave. Brushing a hand over her face, she groaned and straightened her legs. “Is it time to leave?”
Gail shook her head. Dread filled Lina when she saw the expression of sympathy in the other woman’s eyes. Pushing her hair back from her face, she frowned and looked down at Gail where she stood on the steps leading up to the turret.
“Bailey asked me to come get you,” Gail said.
Lina felt her eyes widen in concern. “Mirela…,” she asked, rising to her feet and motioning for Gail to move so she could climb down the ladder.
“No, Mirela’s actually awake,” Gail replied, climbing down and stepping to the side.
Lina jumped the last few rungs of the ladder and looked at Gail. “What…? Edge?” she asked, her stomach tightening in fear.
Gail nodded. “He doesn’t look too good,” she cautioned.
Lina swallowed. Pushing past Gail, Lina took off at a run along the dimly lit corridor. Turning, she jumped down the set of short steps leading to the corridor and the medical bay.
She reached out and grabbed the doorframe leading into the medical bay. Her frantic eyes swept the room, pausing on Mirela who was lying on one of the medical beds, quietly listening to Mechelle. Stepping inside, her turned to Bailey and the surgical bed.
Horror gripped her when she saw Edge on the bed. His body was bowed upward, and his hands were gripping the sides. Sweat glistened on his face, and his eyes looked wild. Bailey was tightening an extra set of straps around his legs even as his body jerked uncontrollably as if he were in the throes of a massive seizure.
“What happened?” Lina demanded, hurrying forward when Edge lifted his arm, straining to break free.
“They are eating me,” he muttered, his head twisting from side to side.
“I need to give him a sedative,” Bailey said, making sure the strap was secure before she hurried over to a tray near the bed.
Lina flashed Bailey a furious glare. “What the hell is the matter with him, Bailey?” she demanded through gritted teeth.
Bailey turned and stepped up near his head. She pressed the tip of the injector to his neck and pushed the button. Within seconds, his body began to relax.
“This won’t last long,” Bailey quietly said, placing the injector on the tray.
“Bailey,” Lina gritted out.
Bailey’s back was to her. She could see the other woman take a deep, shuddering breath before she turned to look at her. Bailey had the same look in her eyes that Gail had—sadness and sympathy.
“He’s dying,” Bailey quietly answered.
Lina could feel her head shaking in denial. The fear she had felt for Leon welled up in her throat again, threatening to choke her. Her hands trembled as she reached for Edge’s hand. Swallowing, she had to try several times before any words would come out.
“Dying? How? What? I…. He can’t. He can’t die. He can’t,” Lina said in a broken voice.
She turned away from Bailey to look down at Edge. He looked so pale. Even with the sleep medication, his eyelids flickered, and she could tell he was in pain.
“It’s the drugs that were pumped into him. They are some kind of weird nanotechnology. We thought that he was going into remission, but they continued replicating. They’ve multiplied,” Bailey explained.
Lina looked at the surgical bed. “The bed…. Surely, it would help him. Can’t it stop the things from replicating?” she asked in a barely audible voice.
Bailey shook her head. “No, at least not yet. The compound is unknown. It adapts whenever we introduce a new drug to counteract it. I just don’t have the knowledge to fight it, Lina. I’m sorry,” Bailey whispered, her voice thick with tears.
Lina stood beside the bed, watching Edge. His breathing was erratic. She lifted her free hand and brushed it across his temple. His skin was hot to her touch. Pain exploded through her until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. This pain was worse than it had been even with Leon.
“What…?” She bowed her head and took deep breaths in an effort to gather her courage. “Can you slow the nano-whatever down?”
“Yes, I think so, but I’m not sure what good that will do except draw out his misery. If the fever inside him doesn’t kill him, the attack on his other organs will. Unless we can get him to a Trivator doctor, I’m thinking it would be more humane to keep him sedated until…,” Bailey said, looking at Edge again. “I can program the surgical bed to slow his respiratory system and lower his body temperature. That may give him some extra time.”
Lina nodded. “Do it,” she ordered, bending over to press a kiss to his lips.
“Uh, gals, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but those warships aren’t going after the decoys. In fact, another big-ass warship just appeared on the scanner, and it looks like it knows where we are,” Andy said from the doorway.
Lina looked up at Andy. Her mouth tightened in determination. She looked at Gail, then at Mirela and Mechelle. A frown creased her brow.
“A signal…. Holy alien hell. There is a tracking device on the ship,” Lina muttered, her eyes widening.
“A tracking device? Where?” Andy asked.
Lina looked down at where she held Edge’s hand. Her mind ran through their conversation. He had mentioned a strange signal.
“The shield. Edge said there was a strange signal going off every once in a while in the shields,” she murmured. She looked over at Mechelle again. “I need you to find it. We can’t use the shields until you do. They will only follow us. Edge shut down just about everything, including the shields. Mechelle, you have to figure it out.”
Mechelle looked uncertain. She glanced at Lina before turned to look at her sister. Mirela gave her a tired smile.
“I can try. I was a gaming programmer, not an alien computer expert,” she said, rising to her feet.
“You did a hell of a job on the Spaceport,” Gail reminded her.
The look of uncertainty turned into one of pride. “I did, didn’t I?” she replied with a smile. “Okay, I’ll take a look. I’ll need to power on the computer system. If I can see the program, I might be able to see if there is an anomaly in the script. Binary code is the same everywhere. It is either on or off.”
“Well, we need you to make sure it is off,” Lina said, reluctantly releasing Edge’s hand so that Bailey could attend to him. “Take care of him, Bailey.”
“I will,” Bailey vowed.
Lina looked at Andy. “Can you fly this thing?” she asked.
“If it has an engine, I can operate it,” Andy promised.
“Ok, this is the plan…” Lina said with determination.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nebula One: Waxian Territory Outer Rim
Jag stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He was staring intently at the three large Waxian warships slowly moving over the remnants of a moon. They had arrived only moments before the warships did.
Thunder and Vice stood to his left side while the Kassisan, Dakar, stood to his right. They watched in silence as the first of the large ships searched over the pockmarked remains of the crystal moon. In the background, they listened to the communications between the ships.
“Scanners reveal the debris belongs to at least two fighters. Sir, there is another warship approaching,” the Triva
tor to the left informed them.
“Thunder, I want you and Vice to take one of the modified fighters and search the moon. I want you to find the ship before they do,” Jag grimly replied.
Thunder nodded, then Vice and he strode off the bridge. Jag could feel Dakar’s unease. He looked at the Kassisan.
“What is it?” he asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
Dakar nodded. “Four warships, at least a hundred fighters, against one. Not the best odds,” he observed.
Jag shrugged. “I’ve been in worse. We have the element of surprise and concealment thanks to Ajaska,” he said.
“And…,” Dakar prompted.
“We Trivators are not without our own technology and resources,” Jag replied with a smug smile.
“Sir, we are receiving a message on a secure emergency frequency,” the man at the communications console said.
Jag frowned. “Play the message,” he ordered.
The communications specialist nodded and activated the com for the bridge. There was a brief moment of silence before a deep voice spoke. Jag lowered his arms and his jaw tightened.
“This is Edge, Trivator warrior identification E585, requesting emergency rescue assistance. We are aboard the Dauntless Explorer in Waxian territory. I don’t have much time. I’ve programmed the ship to jump to Jawtaw territory once we are able. There are seven aboard. Again, this is Edge, Trivator warrior identification E585, requesting emergency rescue assistance.”
Jag turned to the communications specialist. “Can you lock onto the signal?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir, but it is faint. It is coming from the moon. I would need a ship to get closer and act as a booster to pinpoint the exact location. The pyroxene is distorting the signal,” he replied.
Dakar turned to look at Jag. “It would help if you had another fighter out there. If Thunder and Vice discover the ship and Edge is unable to pilot it, you’ll need one of us to do it while the others help provide cover,” he pointed out.
Jag nodded. “Take the other fighter,” he ordered before turning to the communications specialist. “Notify Thunder and Vice of the situation. I want that ship found. Elevate the ship’s status to Level 5, and prepare for battle.”
“Yes, sir,” the communications specialist responded.
Jag narrowed his glare on the three Waxian warships. They were focused on the moon. Their scanners had detected the decoy flares, but they had ignored them.
Jag knew enough to be familiar with that tactic, and it didn’t appear to be working. Edge didn’t have much time.
“Sir, the fourth warship is coming out of space jump. It is a Waxian Battle Tank,” the navigator informed him.
Jag took a deep breath as the massive ship came into view. The Waxian Battle Tank held five hundred fighters, had reinforced armament, and a crew of eight hundred. The three smaller ships, which could easily fit inside it, were overshadowed by this Battle Tank.
“Thunder…,” Jag warned.
“We see it. Fortunately, it can’t see us,” Thunder replied. “We are going in.”
“Dakar will assist you. I would prefer not to engage the four Waxian warships if possible,” Jag dryly replied.
Jag watched as one fighter appeared on the viewscreen followed by another. He hoped to the Goddess that the Kassisan cloaking device was as good as Ajaska and Razor insisted. If it wasn’t, this was going to be a brutal battle with the odds heavily stacked against them. He walked over to the captain’s chair and sat down. Now, it was a matter of ‘wait and see.’
On-board the Waxian Battle Tank:
Katma Achler sat in the commander’s chair. She impatiently tapped the armrest with her fingers. Her focus was directed at the three smaller warships.
“I want the entire moon scanned,” she ordered.
“Yes, Commander,” the captain of one of the warships acknowledged.
“Have you found it yet?” she demanded, looking at the communications officer.
The man shook his head. “Not yet, Commander,” he replied.
“Keep scanning,” she said, rising to her feet. “They are in there.”
Katma clenched her right fist. Her first thought had been to blow the remains of the moon to dust. The two problems with that plan were that she wanted her ship back and she had promised Prymorus that she would capture the Trivator and the human alive. She had been denied the chance to kill Deppar, perhaps Prymorus would give her the pleasure of killing the human female in exchange.
The woman was the root of the issue. She had taken the Trivator out from under Deppar’s nose, and Katma suspected that this woman was also the one who had found the ship she had appropriated several years before. No one stole from her and lived. It was a matter of principle.
Patience had never been her strongest trait. Revenge, on the other hand, was, and she reveled in it. She paced back and forth while the communications officer continued to listen for the tracking code Katma had programmed into the Dauntless’ computer. Then she stopped and looked out the viewscreen at the warships scanning the moon.
“I know you are there,” she murmured. She tapped her foot. “Dispatch a squadron of fighters to start searching the caverns.”
“Yes, Commander,” the First Officer said, before he pressed the com button. “Dispatch a squadron of fighters to initiate a search of the moon.”
“Now, for a little game of hide and seek,” Katma murmured with a sly grin. “I do love a good hunt. It will make killing you all the sweeter.”
Katma did not miss the uneasy glances between the other crew members on the bridge. She didn’t care. Her focus was on standing beside Prymorus when he brought the Alliance to their knees.
Then I will do the same for my darling husband. Queen Katma… No, Empress Katma, she thought with a menacing smile.
Chapter Thirty
“Nothing,” Dakar said, searching around the dark green crystal cavern.
“We are entering the next chamber,” Thunder murmured into the comlink.
Small crystals floated around the fighter. The sound of them bouncing against the ship’s hull reminded them that they were in a structure made of glass. Behind him, Thunder heard Vice hiss.
“This would have been better in a shuttle transport than in a fighter,” he muttered.
“Did you see a shuttle with a cloaking device on it? You know, you could always take over and pilot this thing,” Thunder commented.
“No, if we are going to die, I want you to be the one who gets blamed for it,” Vice replied with a grin.
“Sometimes I wonder…,” Thunder started to say before he whistled. “Found them.”
Vice leaned forward behind Thunder and looked over his shoulder. “How the hell did he get that thing in here?” Vice hissed in surprise.
“It was definitely a tight fit,” Thunder agreed. “Dakar, we have a visual. We are moving to intercept.”
“Confirmed. I have no signal with the Nebula One. I will fall back until I get one,” Dakar stated.
“Confirmed,” Thunder said. “Vice, do you have a visual on an entry hatch?”
“We will have to enter from the belly of the ship. The top is practically touching the ceiling of the cavern. Can you get us under there?” Vice asked.
“I’ll get us under. You get us sealed onto the hatch,” Thunder stated in a grim tone.
Thunder delicately maneuvered the fighter toward the spaceship. He was almost to the hatch near the stern of the transport when he saw the turret turn, and they were suddenly facing the wrong end of a laser cannon. Sweat beaded on his brow as he stared into a pair of dark gray eyes filled with determination.
He was too close to the ship to lift his hands from the controls. Holding the fighter steady, he realized that the person couldn’t see them. Making a split second decision, he shut down the cloaking device. The woman’s eyes widened when she saw the fighter suddenly appear. Behind him, he heard Vice’s smothered curses.
“I hope she doesn’t p
ush the button on that damn thing,” Vice said.
The woman’s hands slowly moved away from the controls. Thunder saw her twist in her seat and disappear. Deciding that was a good thing, he continued aligning the fighter with the underbelly of the ship and the hatch.
“Connection complete, airlock sealed. Opening hatch,” Vice said, checking all of the readouts before pressing the release on the top of the fighter. “Let’s see what kind of welcome we get.”
Thunder released his harness and then reached up to press the release on the hatch. The first, then the secondary hatch slid open. He froze when he found himself staring down the business end of, not one, but three, laser rifles.
“I’m glad you decided to go first,” Vice remarked.
“I think we found some of the missing women,” Thunder said before he raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been searching for you.”
“Yeah, you and half the galaxy. What the fuck do you want?” one woman with dark gray eyes demanded.
“He looks like a Trivator,” a woman behind her said.
“Yeah, but does he smell like one?” another feminine voice retorted.
“Smell? What are we supposed to smell like?” Thunder asked in confusion.
“They do know that it only takes a single burst from one of the rifles at this range to kill, don’t they?” Vice commented.
Thunder was about to make a similar comment when the rifles disappeared and another dark-haired woman replaced the older female. This one held a laser pistol in her right hand and knelt on one knee to look down at him. He could see hope with an edge of desperation in her gaze. He waited for her to speak.
“Edge is dying. Can you help him?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Take me to him,” Thunder ordered, climbing out of the cockpit of the fighter and up through the hatch.
Lina bit her lip and stood near the wall. Bailey was explaining what had happened to Edge, the drug that the Waxian had used, and what she was doing to slow the damage. The two men listened intently before they looked over the chart. She straightened when the bald guy shook his head.
