by Yakov Merkin
Ayil glanced at the fuel station, grimaced, then turned to her sister. “No time for a best of three,” she said, then held out a hand. Some games withstood the test of time, even if two of this particular one’s three options were had not seen real use in centuries.
Liya nodded, and they each closed on hand into a fist, hit it against their other hand three times, then opened them. Ayil cursed. She’d gone with “scissors,” while Liya had chosen “rock.”
“Have fun,” Liya said, then wisely scampered away before Ayil could vent.
Ayil sighed, looked over at Reki, who smiled sympathetically, but only said “Hurry. Go left to start, and remember, we’re currently in between docking bays 47 and 48. Call us once you get to the ship, and we’ll let you know where we are. I have a feeling we’ll be falling back.”
Ayil nodded, secured her pistol in its holster, then ran over to the opening, where she immediately gagged at the pungent smell. “Icali preserve,” she muttered, before climbing inside.
“Ew!” She shrieked as she landed in several inches worth of slimy, foul-smelling liquid, somehow worse than the garbage, and she continued to do so as she moved through another opening into what had to be the pipe itself. Left, she had to turn left.
Gritting her teeth, she began to crawl, first attempting to do so on her hands and knees, but since she kept hitting the top of the pipe, once the level of fuel got a bit lower she switched to pulling herself along with her forearms in the type of crawl she’d seen done in various visual forms of entertainment depicting infantry training. She felt bad for having laughed at the poor trainees in some of those scenes.
Luckily, it was easy to tell when she passed by the valve openings that would lead into the individual docking bays, as the hatches that would be opened once a fuel line was attached were as large as the one she’d entered through, and she began to count, focusing on that over the absolute state of herself.
I really hope these fumes are not toxic. And that this smell will come out some time this week.
Despite the grossness, Ayil kept herself from voicing her complaints as she moved forward; she couldn’t risk any Imperial hearing and firing at her. She was not going to die like a rat inside this thing.
68…69…70!
Finally.
Of course, it was then that she realized she hadn’t figure out just how she meant to open the hatch.
After trying—and failing to clean one of her hands off, she pulled out her comm device and contacted Reki.
“Is this vahooking fuel flammable?”
“No, of course not.”
“Thanks, bye!”
Grimacing all the while, Ayil put a hand into her pocket, pulled out a pair of power cells meant for her pistol, and did just what the packaging had warned against; broke them open, and yanked out a couple of tiny pieces. Luckily, she had done this several times before.
Holding the cells in one hand, she found a small piece of all-stick gel and smashed it against the hatch, then, pulled out one more part from each power cell, which made them both start flashing violently, stuck them to the all-stick, and wriggled herself back the way she’d come as fast as she could.
Moments later, the power cells exploded, sending a wave of hot, extra-smelly air into Ayil’s face, but luckily the fuel was indeed not flammable, and the blast had been mainly projected forward, blowing the hatch clean into the hangar.
Ayil scrambled out of the pipe, then promptly fell almost a meter onto her face with a yelp. This was definitely not her day.
Fortunately, as she pulled herself up, a wonderful sight was before her. The River Lark.
“I’ve reached the ship,” Ayil called into the comm device as she sprinted to it and input the codes to lower the boarding ramp. “Where are you?”
“We’ve, um, fallen back to Docking Bay 22. Everyone from outside able to has joined us, and we’ve managed to, more or less, barricade ourselves in an office. You’re going to have to blast your way to us, but be careful you don’t blow us up too.”
“Got it.” No pressure. Just don’t blow us up.
She was not meant for this sort of thing. Not. At. All.
Ayil ran into the ship, leaving the ramp open, and made straight for the cockpit. Just before she plopped herself down in the pilot’s chair, exhausted, she remembered the filth she was covered in, and grimaced again.
Still standing, she began the full power-up sequence, and as it would take almost a minute—and because another minute wouldn’t change much, hopefully—Ayil peeled off the ruined outfit that she’d probably never touch again, and sprinted into the River Lark’s shower, stood under the high-powered water for a few seconds, then grabbed an almost large enough towel that was probably not freshly cleaned but certainly better than that fuel, and quickly tied it around herself, lacking time to properly dry, as she ran back to the cockpit, armed the weapons, and eased the ship into the air.
While most of the docking bay complex was in an enclosed building, the docking bays themselves were open to the air, for ease of landing, and given the planet’s easily predictable weather, not considered an issue at all.
Ayil rotated the River Lark toward where her best guess said the others were trapped, aimed the forward cannons slightly in front of that area, and fired.
As the smoke from the resulting explosion quickly cleared, Ayil happily saw that she had hit the right people. Red and white armored Imperial troopers littered the blackened promenade.
“You all still alive down there?” Ayil called into her comm device.
“Mostly, yeah,” Reki said loudly over the sounds of shouting and weapons fire. “Ayil, can you get the troops behind us too?”
“Ayil this, Ayil that,” Ayil said as she maneuvered the ship into position. “Why do I have to do everything today?”
She fired, with similar results to those of the first volley. “Good enough?”
“Perfect.”
“Good. Coming down to get you, and you can tell Dran and Liya that I’m taking the rest of the day off. They’re flying us out of here.”
“Um, okay?”
Ayil shook her head. Couldn’t the girl at least get one of her jokes?
Less than a minute later, Ayil had the ship hovering as low as she dared, ramp still lowered, and almost immediately heard footsteps fast approaching.
“Took you long enough,” Liya said as she ran into the cockpit, Dran close behind her. Then she looked down at Ayil, and her eyebrows raised. “Did you shower before coming to get us?”
“You smell what I just crawled through, and then you talk.” Ayil rose from the seat and flicked her still wet head tendrils toward Liya, splashing water into her sister’s face. “You drive, I’ll be at one of the guns. I really need to shoot more things.”
Liya laughed, and Dran patted her on the side as he sat down. “Have fun, and tell our new friends to hang on. And good job.”
Ayil smiled back, then made her way back through the ship and the group of over twenty rebels that had crowded on board—all of whom, save their own Nihlurans, stared at her. What was so shocking? The towel was still hanging on, if only just.
“You see something you like, let me know,” Ayil said as she made her way to the ladder that led to the upper turret, “otherwise, someone get to the other gun and the rest of you find something to hang on to. There is only room up there for one of you to hold on to me,” she added, winked over at Reki, who looked satisfyingly uncomfortable, then finished the climb into the turret.
“Please tell me you have something for me to shoot at,” Ayil said as she got settled, ignoring the poorly tied knot holding the towel on coming undone; it was a good thing they had managed to get enough from the Felinaris admiral to also be able to install nicer chairs. With the old, junk ones it would have not exactly been comfortable, sitting in her current state. Now, though, she could stay and shoot things all day.
“Any moment now,” Liya said over the ship’s internal comm system. “The Imperial ships
are currently warning us to surrender. Dran had some very impolite responses, so I think they’re going to send fighters after us.”
“Good. You two make sure the guns that matter don’t hit us, and I’ll keep the flies off us. Who is at the bottom gun?”
“I am,” came Reki’s voice over the comm. “Vilar will give you hyperspace coordinates.”
“Don’t show off too much,” Ayil said, then switched the comm to only connect her to Reki in the other turret.
“Just you and me now,” she said. “So, Reki, you ever fired a turret like this?”
“Can’t say I have, but it looks simple enough.”
“Should have come joined me, then,” Ayil purred into the headset. “I could have shown you a few tricks.”
“No, I think I’m fine here, really,” Reki replied tentatively, and Ayil smiled widely, both at the sight of incoming fighters and at the mental image of her rebel friend’s face right about now. Gods, how she missed Dalcon. He had been the most fun to bother, and when the time came, possibly the best friend they had made in a long time. Reki had a ways to go, but she could get there as well. Maybe once they reached rebel headquarters, or wherever they were going. The girl was brave, and had the same fiery spark that Dalcon had had, but with far less experience. Well, war was said to be a good place to gain experience… if you survived.
Ayil shook herself from her reverie, and opened fire at the first fighter to come within range. It turned too slowly to evade her rapid-firing cannons, and was quickly shredded. Ah, memories of their escape from the hollow planet.
“They’re too fast!” Reki called from the other turret.
Ayil stifled a laugh as a funny, but inappropriate, remark came to mind, then refocused. The turrets’ target lead indicators could be finicky, and did not always adjust as they should when faster targets were involved. “Lead them more than the computer indicates you should,” she replied. It was easier said than done, of course, but there wasn’t anything more effective they could do on such short notice. She’d make sure Liya properly calibrated them when they were next at a safe port.
Ayil fired at another fighter as it moved in to strafe them, but the shaking of the ship as its shields absorbed fire threw off Ayil’s aim, and the fighter got away. Just try that again, I dare you.
The next fighter to come into Ayil’s sights was not as lucky. Unfortunately for her, however, there were now six coming in at once.
Ayil fired at the formation, and they scattered, the River Lark shuddering as it took several more hits.
“I got one!” Reki shouted.
“Good work, but don’t let it get to your head. That’s my job,” Ayil said as the ship shook again, and she shot down another of the small Imperial fighters. How long was it going to take them to make the jump? If the panel next to the chair was wired right, their shields were getting into the “time to go” range.
After taking several more hits, and flying that Ayil presumed looked more impressive than it felt, the stars finally elongated in their familiar way, and she was pressed back into her seat as they made the jump.
After taking a few moments to catch her breath, Ayil unstrapped herself, and, a smile growing upon her face, re-opened the channel to the other turret. “You did well, rebel. Very well. But there is always room for improvement, and since I am sure there will be some time in hyperspace, I think there are some things I could show you. Do you want to join me here, or should I come down there, to you?”
“What? I don’t… what?”
Ayil laughed. “Just stay where you are, Reki.” She could just see the poor girl’s cute, confused, but also—at least subconsciously—interested expression.
The Revittan Empire may have more immediate dangers than Ayil was happy with, but it also had more than its fair share of fun. Always a balance.
And if there was a pure soul she could corrupt along the way, so much the better.
CHAPTER 22
“Admiral, we need reinforcements on our left flank!”
“Acknowledged, Vice Admiral,” Felivas replied, then relayed the orders for his task force to move to assist.
As had been the case of late, the battle was going badly for the Alliance. Nothing they tried seemed to be working; the enemy seemed to always be in the right place at the right time, and during engagements their positioning and movements were flawless. There was already some talk about a potential spy, but Felivas found that unlikely, both due to the fact that what intel they did have on this Grand Admiral Sai’var made him out to be some tactical genius, and because there was no motive he could think of that would prompt an individual to turn on the Alliance.
“Admiral, a Revittan cruiser wing is moving to engage us.”
Felivas looked at the tactical display. His task force would not be able to hold against the oncoming wing in a direct confrontation.
“Send word to the rest of the task force. Change course to take us to point three five nine. We’ll come down on the Revittans, spear drop pattern.”
As the Swift Strike led the task force, however, Felivas noticed something strange. Despite his most recent maneuver being plain as day, the incoming Revittan forces were completely ignoring his task force, and both that oncoming wing as well as another more mixed group of ships was advancing straight through the fire of the Talvostan fleet, which had also moved to assist on the edges of the formation. The Revittans were going straight for the heart of the Alliance formation, for the Legion Navy.
“Belay that order,” he shouted. “we need to get to the center of the formation, full attack speed.”
There had to be a reason the enemy was choosing to take losses in order to focus that efforts on attacking the Legion Navy, but now wasn’t the time to ask why.
A moment after the Swift Strike altered course, however, it abruptly began to slow, and power began to flicker for a few moments. Then it went out completely, only to return moments later?”
“What is going on?” Felivas demanded.
“Trying to determine that, sir. It seems… that this is being caused by those energy draining weapons, or something similar.”
“How is that possible? They have only previously been capable of draining shields, and besides, we had countermeasures in place. More important, get us moving again!”
The ship began to advance again, but within moments, it experienced the same problems.
“Sorry, sir, it seems that the enemy has found some new way to deploy that weapon, in powerful pulses. It only temporarily stalls us because of our countermeasures, but at the same time it is constantly changing frequency so we cannot completely prevent it.”
“Well, find what is causing this. We cannot fight like this, and we are needed imminently.” The only positive to this was that a pulse that powerful would likely have the same impact on the Revittan ships, which meant that this could not be used as a weapon to defeat a fleet, but only, as was the case now, a means of delaying his forces and preventing them from moving into position.
“Source of the pulse identified. Admiral. Firing on it.”
Seconds later, the power returned in full, and the task force was able to proceed again toward the center of the battle, but Felivas saw that it was already too late. The center of the Legion Navy formation had collapsed, and just as the Swift Strike began to fire on the enemy, the vice admiral’s ship broke in two as explosions tore it apart. The battle was lost.
“Open a channel to the fleet,” Felivas ordered.
“Channel open.”
“This is Admiral Kharitzon of the Royal Felinaris Navy. I am assuming command, and ordering a retreat.”
“By what authority are you taking command here?” Shot back an angry Tehlman voice. “I am in command of the Legion Navy fleet here now, and this was our operation. Get here and assist us!”
Commodore Vian, just their luck. The man was as belligerent a Tehlman as one could find, and held very strong grudges over the events surrounding the Tyrannodon invasion.
“Commodore, the battle is lost. Staying will only mean losing more ships and lives before we are forced to retreat anyway.”
“I am tired of running, Felinaris.”
“And you think I am not? I have an idea, Commodore, a way to make this retreat, to make the losses suffered here today, mean something. Please, trust me. For the sake of the Alliance as a whole as well as the ships and crew presently engaged.”
“Very well, Admiral. Relay coordinates.”
“Thank you, Commodore.” Felivas had the jump coordinates dispatched. “Begin your retreat; the Talvostans as well as my task force will provide cover.”
“Acknowledged, and thank you, Admiral.”
“Open a channel to Prafetciss Sirex,” Felivas said as the line to the Commodore closed.
“I presume you have a plan, Admiral Kharitzon?” Said the Talvostan commander.
“In a sense,” Felivas replied. “I’d much rather have a plan for winning this battle, but as that seems to be impossible now, I think we can pull off giving the Legion Navy time to evacuate before joining them.”
“I’m always up for a challenge.”
“Excellent. Because this will be a challenge indeed, both for us but for many of our subordinates. From what we know, the enemy commander is somehow able to prepare for whatever we do, or possesses the ability to adapt incredibly quickly and channel that through his forces. We must, therefore, not give him anything to work with. Divide your warships into squadrons of between three and five. While we will all maintain some contact, each squadron must be acting and engaging the enemy on its own, as a unit.”
“I understand, Admiral. From one former fighter pilot to another, good luck.”
Felivas smiled. “The same to you.”
“Relay those orders,“Felivas commanded, and have the Garash and the Rokham serve as our squadmates. Make it clear that we must be quick about this.”
Felivas kept his eyes locked on the scene outside as everything was hastily arranged. The Revittan fleet was still strangely focused on the Legion Navy fleet, now in complete retreat. Whatever the reason for this, it was giving the Felinaris and Talvostans the precious time needed to ready themselves.
