by Yakov Merkin
Corras stifled a curse. There had not been time to go into such depth for playing their roles, and the assumption had been that the escorts would be ignored, as usual.
“She is under my command, Lothaer, and need not answer.”
Lothaer’s hand drifted toward his weapon. “I don’t think that’s why you don’t want her to answer, I think it’s because she is in fact a rebel, traitor!” He shouted as he grabbed his weapon, and both of Corras’s escort flinched and readied their own.
“I don’t know why you did it, old man,” said Loather, his sidearm trained on Reki, “but it’s over. There is no way out of this—”
Corras cut him off by shooting him in the chest.
Lothaer collapsed to the ground, but Corras realized too late that the shot had not been immediately fatal. The IRSS agent pulled out his comm, and managed to shout into it, “Rebels in the data archive!” Before Corras shot him in the head.
“Sorry, old friend,” he muttered, then sprinted for the access panel as alarms began to blare.
“Tell the others to enact the contingency plan,” he ordered his escorts as he frantically tried to input his access codes before the base went into lockdown and his codes wouldn’t work. Sure enough, after he put in all of his passcodes, he received a rejection and lockdown notice. Which likely also meant that those in charge of the base were going to have some idea of what was going on.
“Quick, give me the cracking equipment, and seal that door,” Corras ordered.
He quickly began to assembled the device, a more crude version of similar things he had used in his younger years, and connected it to the access console. Essentially, it would brute force the security systems, and give him a way in, at least temporarily.
“I’m not sure we’ll be able to completely lock them out,” Reki said.
“Blast out the control panels,” Corras said as he activated the device. “At the very least it’ll force them to bring in something to manually open the doors.”
Acting almost on muscle memory, Corras began to work. While he was familiar with the Imperial security systems, he had also ensured they would be tough to beat. It was slow going, especially because the lockdown made it necessary to, metaphorically, at least, smash through each security layer, one at a time.
“Think we’ve got company,” one of his escorts said.
Corras ignored that, as well as the banging from outside the room, as he finally made it into the system. Of course, finding what he needed was a whole other task, but fortunately, he knew codes and ciphers very well. It didn’t take him long to find all of the Final Awakening files, and for good measure, despite the more urgent calls from his companions, he grabbed several more interesting looking ones and added them to his remote storage device.
“We’re out of time,” Reki said, and Corras heard the door start to move slowly.
Then he remembered where they were; in a secure room with only one way in or out. A way that currently included spirits knew how many troopers.
“What are we going to do?” Reki asked as Corras cast his eyes about, scanning the room.
“There,” he said, pointing at a specific spot high on the wall. “That’s a maintenance shaft. The grating will have to be blasted out, but that should be the only security obstacle at this end. We rely mostly on alarms and quick response times.”
Without hesitation, the two of them fired up at the grating, and after a few moments, and some horrible screeching sounds, they’d blown it off.
“So how are we going to get up there?” Reki asked.
Corras glanced toward the slowly rising door, then back at the wall. There was really only one way.
“We’ll make a ladder,” he said as he stowed the storage device in his pocket. “We’ll get you up top first, and you can help get the rest of us up after you.”
Corras realized, as did his other escort, that getting the third member of their party up would be difficult if not impossible, but there was no time to hesitate.
Corras carefully climbed on top of his escort, then gestured to Reki, who was fortunately light-footed as she scrambled up and into the shaft, where she shifted herself around to extend a hand down to Corras.
Praying the girl could at least hold him, Corras took her hand, then swung his other up to reach the opening itself, ignoring the complaint of his shoulder, and managed to scramble up. “I am way too old for this,” he muttered, then looked down. There was no way, he admitted, that they’d be able to get the last of their group up. It was simply too far, and neither he nor Reki was strong enough to lower the other down to reach him.
“Go,” the rebel said, face fortunately hidden behind his helmet. “I’ll hold them as long as I can, give you more time to get clear.”
“I’m sorry,” Corras said.
“Don’t be. We came to get this crucial information. If we get it to command, it’s worth all our lives. Good luck, Director.”
Corras made himself turn away, and he scooted past Reki and began to lead the way, crawling through the dark, cramped shaft as the sound of weapons fire filled the air behind them.
“What is your status?” He sent to the rest of the team as he tried to navigate.
“Our deliveries confused them, alright, but the place is swarming with troopers now, and we’re cut off from the shuttle. We’re moving to a defensible location with a possible escape route now; sending you our location.”
“Got it,” Corras replied, and continued onward.
After what felt like an age, he and Reki reached an unattended exit.
“Careful,” he whispered to her. “The whole base doesn’t necessarily know what is going on, and I might still be able to make use of my status.”
Corras slipped out and into the empty white hallway, Reki close behind, and he led the way to the building’s main exit, where six troopers stood guard.
“Director?” Asked one of them.
“There are rebels inside the building, captain. They attacked me, killed one of my guards. I need to return to my ship.” Corras moved for the exit panel.
“Sorry, sir,” said the trooper as he blocked the way. “It’s at least as dangerous outside, and we have orders that no one is to leave the building.”
“Soldier, do not make me order you to step aside,” Corras said. “I outrank everyone in this base.”
The large man hesitated, but then stood aside.
“Be ready,” Corras whispered to Reki as he began work on entering his passcodes.
After a few moments, however, the console made an angry beep, and began to flash red. Corras bit back a curse; how could his access have been so rapidly revoked?
The troopers did not miss the warning sound and lights, and began to turn their weapons toward him.
“Now!” Corras shouted, and began unloading his pistol at the troopers while Reki’s rifle tore into them as well.
Three of them went down immediately, but the others managed to find some more cover while Corras and Reki had to crouch behind a single entry/exit divider.
Plasma bolts shot across the entry area, splattering the finely crafted walls and decorations, but Corras was faster and his aim truer than that of the soldiers. He took down another one and wounded another, but before he could get back to cover a shot of plasma struck him in the shoulder.
Corras grunted and cursed as he fell, but fortunately Reki finished off the last of the troopers here.
“You alright?” Reki asked as Corras gingerly rose to his feet.
Corras nodded. “This isn’t too bad a wound. Now, search their pockets. One will have an access card that should still work.”
Corras hissed in a breath and glanced at the wound as the girl searched. It was worse than he’d made it out to be, but not something that’d kill him.
“Got it!” Reki shouted happily, and she quickly inserted it into the console. Moments later, the doors opened.
Corras let her take the lead as he held his wounded arm close to his body, and they
swiftly moved through a more forested area just outside the building to where most of the team was, preparing a defensive position with their backs to another building, the base’s armory, conveniently enough. In the distance, Corras could hear some weapons fire.
“We have some distraction teams running,” said the team’s commander. “You got the info?”
Corras nodded. “How long until reinforcements arrive?”
“About an hour.”
An hour.
Corras looked out through the dense foliage, toward the sounds of battle drawing nearer, then at his team, pitifully small when compared to the Imperial garrison.
Somehow, they would have to hold long enough.
CHAPTER 51
“How much longer until hyperspace?” Ayil asked as she swung around in the turret, firing at the swarm of Revittan fighters chasing them down.
“A little longer,” Dran shouted back. “They damaged something when we were pulling out, and the system is causing me trouble.”
Great, just great. This is what they got for doing the right thing and helping that informant out. No matter how hard she tried, Ayil couldn’t be mad at herself for making that choice, but right now, with more than a dozen Imperial fighters plus a cruiser bearing down on them, and with the hyperdrive being slow, that did not matter nearly as much.
Ayil aimed, fired, and took down another fighter. A small victory. Then the Lark shook as several fighters got close enough to make effective shots.
Ayil fired again, but this time the small, nimble craft escaped unharmed. She made an angry noise and tried again as the ship was hit several more times. This time, the lights flickered.
“Dran!”
”Vahok!” he cursed. “Liya, get over here. I need an extra pair of hands.”
“Well this is good,” Ayil called down through gritted teeth. Dran at least had repositioned them so that only her side of the ship faced the enemy, with Liya’s now vacant turret unhelpful.
Ayil could have checked the shield levels, but she knew she didn’t want to. A shot impacted very close to where she was seated, and Ayil was nearly thrown from her seat, only held in place by the not-quite-tight-enough safety straps. She at least compensated by destroying two fighters which had grown overconfident at their recent hit.
Then she saw the torpedoes streaking in right toward her.
She was about to yell for Dran again when she felt the Lark lurch, and they shot into hyperspace.
Ayil breathed a sigh of relief, then unstrapped herself and climbed down to the cockpit. “Took you long enough. We’re heading home?”
Dran grimaced. “Not… quite. We were in a bit of a hurry, and the hyperdrive is still finicky, so we just went with the first route we could find.”
Ayi looked over at Liya. “So what this means is…”
“We’ll find out where we’re headed in a few minutes, as it was a short jump, then properly prepare one to take us home.” Liya grinned and hugged Ayil, who was still simply staring at them. “Don’t worry, sister, we’ll solve this.”
Ayil rolled her eyes, then stepped aside to let the more technically adept ones work. When this somehow got even worse, they were going to blame her—at least once the immediate crisis was past. That was not going to be fun.
A few minutes later, they came out of hyperspace not far from an ugly-looking, brown and green planet. “How long?” Ayil asked with a sigh from the pilot’s chair.
“Not long, dear,” Dran said.
Ayil was about to grace him with a sarcastic reply when alarms began to blare. She groaned. “Company!” She announced, then ran for her turret.
From there, she saw as the cruiser that had been chasing them before snapped into view, and fighters began to pour from it like the ravenous young of some gross insect whose name she could not recall.
Before Ayil could so much as strap in, the cruiser fired, and she went flying, hitting her head on the turret bubble.
Ayil cursed, then scrambled back into her seat and strapped in just before the ship lurched as Dran took the helm.
The fighters began to pepper the Lark with weapons fire, and some sparks flew from a console too close to Ayil’s face.
“I assume stealth options are not possible?” she heard Liya shout from below.
“System fried!” Dran replied.
Of course.
“And what about our shields, dearest?” Ayil asked as she fired at and missed all of the swarming fighters.
“We haven’t lost them yet.”
After another long stream of fire, Ayil started to land hits, and between her and Liya they began to thin the swarm, but at the same time that uncomfortable feeling plus scary shaking told her that they were still very much in trouble.
“Why are we flying toward the planet?” Ayil asked as she spun herself in the opposite direction to stave off dizziness and look at where they were going.
“Someone told me once that those fighters are less maneuverable in atmosphere. No more questions, just shoot them!”
Ayil quickly saw that Dran was right. The small, narrow fighters turned far more slowly. She smiled widely as she caught several in a single volley, tearing right through them.
“Not so fun now!” she shouted to the stupid, annoying pilots that couldn’t possibly hear her.
However, the universe’s sense of humor quickly struck, and the. Lark was rocked violently, then began to drop in a way that did not feel deliberate.
Ayil forced herself to keep firing even as she felt panic begin to swell within her. Dran, my love, please tell me you have this under control.
“We’re going to land!” Dran announced cheerily a moment later. Not a good sign.
“How much of the ship are we going to lose?” Liya asked.
“How much did we already lose?”
“Don’t worry your pretty heads,” Dran said. “Kill those Revittans for me.”
Ayil did as he asked, stopping only to further loosen her shirt; everything seemed to feel uncomfortably tight. Four more fighters.
Then Liya got two more, and Ayil’s shots clipped one, sending it spinning out of control into the other.
We did it!
Then they dropped, a lot, and Ayil screamed, hands leaving the gun controls and wrapping around herself. She then drew her knees up to her chest and buried her head in them as she waited for that final, world-ending crash, eyes tightly shut.
It never came. Instead, the ship shook violently as it hit something, maybe a tree, then another, and another, until eventually it hit the ground hard and began to skid. At least Ayil was in the upper turret.
After what felt like several more bone-rattling minutes, the River Lark came to a stop, and Ayil unsteadily disengaged herself and stood up.
She had just time to say, “Another happy landing,” before she gagged and threw up in a conveniently placed bucket normally used for cleaning. Not for a while, now. Luckily, there was a half-empty canteen of water lying nearby, and he was able to rinse her mouth out and get rid of the acidic taste.
“We’re not dead?” Liya asked from down below.
“Not for lack of trying,” Ayil said as she shakily climbed down the ladder.
“Is that any way to talk about the one who just landed this thing with no engine power?“asked a smug-looking Dran as he walked over.
Ayil glared at him as she decided whether or not to punch him. She was about to give in to the stress and frustration that were pushing for that, however, and instead launched herself at him, and wrapped both her arms and legs around Dran and kissed him deeply as he backed into the wall to keep his balance.
She remained locked onto him for what felt like several minutes, his hands wandering all over as Ayil held herself onto him, until they both had to surface for air. “You,” Ayil said as she gasped in air, “are the best pilot in the galaxy.”
“I would say you are the best gunner,” he replied, “but I don’t want you to get into a fight with your sister.”
> “She can be best gunner,” Liya said as she approached, “but only if I am best mechanic. Also, I want a turn.”
Ayil sighed, and slowly, extra slowly, untangled herself from Dran and slid herself down until she could stand. She winked at him, then let Liya go at him.
As her sister tried to outdo her recent display of affection for their dear Dran, Ayil walked to the cockpit and powered up their navigational system—it took a few smacks. As she saw their location, her eyes widened, and she looked out the window before turning back to the others, who were completely oblivious to her presence for the moment.
When they finally finished, Ayil cleared her throat loudly. “So, I have good news and bad news. Good news, we are out of Imperial reach. The bad,” she went on, just managing to suppress a shiver, “we are stranded in the middle of Dullok space.”
“Vahok.”
CHAPTER 52
“Speartip Wing, form up and engage the enemy formation at the following coordinates,” Felivas ordered as the Swift Strike sped through loose Revittan formations. His attack force had taken a beating when Sai’var’s trick of disguised ships had been revealed, but by and large they had made it out, and served as one of the Alliance fleet’s forward attack squadron leaders as the battle dragged on.
Felivas leaned to the side slightly as the ship made a particularly sharp maneuver, which allowed it to bring its weapons to bear on the command deck of a now shieldless Revittan battleship.
Felivas looked at the larger tactical display as his attack force finished off the group of Revittan ships and moved on. Things were progressing well, if slowly; the Alliance fleet had the firepower advantage, and were being properly aggressive, forcing the Revittans to react, but the formations and deployments by Grand Admiral Sai’var had very quickly quashed all Alliance hopes of a quick and bloodless victory. On the display, Felivas could see Tyrannodon, Felinaris and Talvostan forces leading the pushes against the enemy, with Snevan and Legion Navy forces providing support, and smiled. This was what he had wanted, what he had worked toward. An Alliance of people who, despite numerous differences, could work together to carry out an operation of unprecedented scale. Their aggressive posture, in particular, gave them the ability to effectively react to what might otherwise have been catastrophic developments in the battle.
