by Stella Cassy
“Hung over again, are you, you cranky old quack?” Ranel chuckled.
Stal left, mumbling something unsavory under his breath about Ranel's mother and a pox-riddled Nk'athen with dysentery.
When we met Lehar at the airlock, I was immediately impressed with the coloring of his scales – they were a deep burgundy, shimmering beneath the dim lights of the ship. His arm was in a sling. To my surprise, he was accompanied by a human woman with curly black hair and beautiful skin the color of cocoa. There was something oddly familiar about her, though I couldn't quite place her.
“Good to see you, Lehar...or rather, what's left of you,” Ranel said, clasping Lehar's uninjured hand. “So, you finally got your own fleet, eh?”
“I only wish it had been a bigger one,” Lehar growled wryly. “The Pax Alliance weren't inclined to fall for any cute sensor tricks when we tried to get around their territory to join you. A third of my vessels were blasted to flaming meteorites and are probably raining down on the surface of Coovoo even as we speak. Hopefully, they'll hit a few of those blasted centaurs in the head and kill them on the way down.”
“Vengeance even in death, at least.” Dashel gestured to me. “Lehar, this is Natalie. Formerly my captive, now my mate.”
Lehar raised an eyebrow. “Between you, me, and Tarion, there's a lot of that going around these days, it seems. This is Lara.”
“Pardon me,” I said, “I realize what a weird question this is, given our current circumstances, but...do I know you from somewhere?” I couldn't quite keep the hard edge and suspicion out of my voice. Maybe I was being harsh, but I'd been working in the mines too long to trust new people easily, even if they were humans. The thought reminded me of the altercation I'd had with Gordon before the Hielsrane invasion, and I pushed the memory away.
Lara shrugged. “It depends on when you got taken from Earth. Before my—well, 'abduction' is the word, I guess, even if makes me sound like a supermarket tabloid—I was an actor. Did some commercial work, a few guest spots on shows. I was supposed to star in a sci-fi flick, until I ended up living in one.” She laughed. “The really freaky thing, though, is that you seem kind of familiar to me, too. Could it be we knew each other back on Earth?”
“It's certainly possible, I suppose.” I relaxed a bit – or tried to, at least. For someone who'd found herself in such bizarre circumstances, she seemed to have a good sense of humor and an easygoing attitude.
“That's a cool collar,” Lara went on, pointing at it.
“Thank you. I'm...” I stopped. What had I been about to say? That I was proud of it, and the status it represented? Maybe I had been before, but now it was just a symbol of my former oppression – and my own foolishness. “I'm glad you think so,” I finished awkwardly.
“Come, Lehar,” Ranel said briskly, “let's find a bottle and celebrate the coming of your reinforcements, hm? Even if they're in bad shape, they're most welcome, given our limited resources and our foe's superior numbers. Besides, from the look of your travel companion, it seems we'll have a lot of catching up to do!”
“We'll meet up with you guys in a bit,” Lara told them. “Girl talk. You understand.”
As they headed off toward Dashel's cabin, she turned to me with a wink. I thought she was going to ask me some more questions about where I'd lived on Earth so we could compare notes and find out where we knew each other from. Instead, she said, “You play it pretty hard, don't you?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, it's just that as an actor, I tend to notice stuff like body language and vocal tones, you know? I can tell you like to project a tough image for new people, so they'll know you're not particularly trusting or some kind of pushover. Am I right?”
“Yes, I suppose that's true,” I admitted. “I used to work in the mines here. It was a rough life. Everyone for themselves, fighting over food, blankets, favors from the overseers. Relaxing around new people – or even people I'd known for a long time – was a good way to get myself hurt or killed.”
“That sounds terrible. I'm so sorry.” She put a hand on my shoulder – I flinched, and she took it away again. “For what it's worth, you can relax around me. Seems like we're pretty much in the same boat. But you'll definitely want to save that spiky exterior for Carissa.”
“Who's that?”
“Tarion's girl.” Lara gave me a lopsided smile. “She can be, um...difficult to deal with, to say the least.”
Before I could ask her for clarification, the ship was rocked by a powerful blast.
“More trouble from your insurgents?” Lara asked, concerned.
I shook my head. “That was a bigger boom than anything their weapons could generate. I don't think it came from the surface at all.”
16
Dashel
Natalie and Lara hurried onto the command deck just as Ranel, Lehar, and I were taking our positions. A large fleet of Alliance vessels filled the viewscreen like a swarm of angry wasps ready to strike. The various factions were clustered together: Pax, Moset, Coovooan, and Vence, plus about a dozen assorted smaller groups of vessels from the less-influential planets in their empire.
“It looks like you brought some friends with you,” Ranel said to Lehar dryly.
“Impossible!” he exclaimed, horrified. “If they'd been following us this closely, our sensors would have detected them!”
“Unless they had some form of cloaking apparatus,” I pointed out.
“According to our spies in the Alliance, they shouldn't have been able to achieve that level of technology for at least five years, let alone outfit their strike ships with it!” the helmsman said.
“Then either our information was faulty, our spies are double-agents, or the Pax stepped up their efforts when they found out we'd breached their blockade to get here,” I replied. “We can figure that out later. Right now, we need to get a message to our people on the surface so they can help us fight them off.”
The helmsman tapped a series of commands into his console and a thin microphone protruded from it. He spoke into it urgently: “This is the Wyvern, signaling all drop-shuttles and planetary forces! We're under attack! Mobilize and meet us at the coordinates I'm transmitting to you, at once!”
“Did they get the message?” I asked. “Are they on their way?”
The helmsman shook his head. “I...don't know, captain. It looks like the Pax are jamming our communications array.”
“Re-route power from all non-essential systems to boost the signal and try to reach Tarion's forces,” Ranel ordered.
“They're too far away, sir! They'll never make it in time!”
“We'll have to buy time until they do, or there's no way we'll survive this onslaught.” Ranel turned to Lehar. “You can transmit orders to your fleet from the tactical console. Hopefully, they've still got some life left in them.”
“They're manned by skeleton crews,” Lehar said, running to the tactical station and pushing buttons on it quickly. “Almost half my people are in your sickbay right now.”
“We'll have to make do,” I answered, leaning down to address the crew through the ship wide comm. “All hands: We are under attack from a Pax fleet. Man the escape pods immediately.”
“We've barely taken any fire, and you're ordering them to abandon ship?!” Lehar balked.
“No, but that's probably what the Pax will think, which should at least give us the element of surprise. We've made a few unorthodox modifications to our hardware since we got here, Lehar. I think you'll approve.”
Suddenly, the lights on the ship darkened, and a booming voice filled the comms: “Hielsrane forces. You have committed acts of trespassing, thievery, and violence against the Pax Alliance. Our numbers and weapons systems are vastly superior to yours. You cannot prevail in this conflict. Surrender, and your lives will be spared. Resist, and you will be destroyed.”
“Burn in hell, you worthless bastards,” Natalie said through gritted teeth, reaching out to take my hand. I gav
e hers a light squeeze, then released it. I admired her bravery tremendously.
“Are the pods ready?” I asked.
The helmsman checked his console. “Yes, all accounted for.”
“Then deploy them. And if this is our last stand, then by the stars, let's make it count.”
There was a series of heavy thumps and whooshes as the pods detached, and a moment later, they were drifting all over the viewscreen. The Pax ships kept blasting at Lehar's vessels and ignored the pods completely, which was predictable. While other hostile races tended to use escape pods for target practice, the Pax preferred the tactic of letting them go, so the wounded and terrified survivors could return to their people and spread fear of the Alliance.
It gave us exactly the edge we needed.
“All pods,” I ordered, “engage engines and fire at will.”
The newly installed repulsor drives on the pods came to life, glowing a savage shade of red as they propelled the tiny fighters at the Pax ships like a hail of bullets.
The Pax tried adjusting their targeting apparatus to correct their mistake, but it was too late – the pods were too close to be effectively dealt with using long-range cannons, and they began strafing the outer hulls of the command ships in earnest. Explosions bloomed on the metal surfaces like fiery roses, then were immediately snuffed out in the vacuum of space, leaving smoldering craters visible in their wake.
The main Pax cruiser shuddered, lurched, belched out thick plumes of black smoke and cracked in half, spilling its crew into the black void like grains of rice from a ruptured sack.
The crew on the command deck of the Wyvern cheered.
Then another Alliance cruiser stabbed out with a thick proton beam, lancing through one of Lehar's damaged ships and tearing it to shreds.
Lehar's shoulders slumped miserably at his station. How many of his crew mates had been on that ship? How personally must he have felt that loss, knowing he'd been charged with protecting them?
“We're not out of the woods yet, people,” I said. “Lehar have the rest of your ships engage the Vence and Coovooan vessels. They're smaller and armed with lighter cannonry, so you should be more evenly matched. While you keep them busy, the pods can keep flying inside the heavy cruisers' firing range and stinging them to death.”
“What about the Wyvern?” the helmsman asked.
I turned to Natalie, grinning. “Feel like doing a little Moset hunting today, human?”
She smiled back, even though her eyes were frenzied with fear. “Blow the trumpet and tally-ho, dragon-man.”
17
Natalie
The Wyvern's close-range engines flared, moving us into position to face the Moset raiders.
I was trying to seem brave and daring in the face of this attack, but the truth was, I was scared out of my goddamn mind. The sight of all those enemy ships arranged in front of us like a wall made my stomach backflip. All I could think about was how long I'd survive if the Wyvern exploded – whether the blast would kill me instantly, or if I'd be plunged into the endless cold and darkness of space, gasping for air where there was none, feeling my eyeballs ice over and burst from their sockets...
I shook my head, trying to clear it. No time for that now.
“'Cowards die a thousand deaths,'” I quoted under my breath. “'The valiant never taste of death but once.'”
Dashel turned to look at me, clearly impressed, as though he were seeing me for the first time. “That's quite profound. On your planet, were you some sort of warrior-poet?”
“No. I was...”
Well, what had I been? At the time, even I hadn't really known. As a kid, I'd always gotten high grades without ever needing to work hard or study. I applied to a college with open enrollment so I wouldn't have to fret about whether I'd get in, then spent four years coasting along as an English major without ever choosing a specific focus. When graduation came and I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, I went to grad school for English Lit, even though I never had any intention of writing or teaching.
My parents never pressed me – they just sat back and let me choose my own path, figuring it would eventually have to lead me somewhere. Then one day, they died in a car crash, leaving me to wonder what ambitions or expectations they'd ever had for me, if any.
And even marrying Daniel...
Hadn't that been a way of taking the path of least resistance for me too? Yes, I'd loved him, but he was so easy, so low maintenance. He never judged me for my lack of ambition or real goals. He was a talented engineer with excellent prospects, so if it had come down to it, he could've easily supported both of us if I'd never gotten around to deciding on a career of my own. There was no pressure that went with being married to him, no expectations to live up to.
In fact, the only damn thing I'd ever truly worked to achieve in my life was the collar around my neck.
“...I suppose I hadn't decided on what I was going to be yet,” I said. “Somehow, I just assumed the universe would figure it all out for me. And I guess it did, when that Pax vessel poached us off Earth while we were having a picnic.”
Dashel tilted his head. “'Us?' The man from the photograph? Was he...your mate?”
I nodded. “Daniel. He's dead now.”
“I see. My previous mate died tragically as well.”
“I hate to interrupt these fascinating tales of your personal lives,” Ranel snarled, “but we're almost in range of the Moset fleet, and there are too many of them for us to repel or destroy.”
“We don't have to defeat all of them,” Dashel said. “Just enough to buy some time.”
“We may as well set a course for the center of the nearest black hole,” the helmsman mumbled. “As methods of suicide go, it would be quicker and less painful.”
“Enough of that cowardly talk!” Dashel roared, springing up from his command chair. “We are Hielsrane! We are the great dragons of the universe, and none can stand against our terrible fury! Now target the biggest Moset ship you can find and open fire! Full spread – disruptors and solar charges! Let's breathe some fire on these bastards!”
The command crew stared at him, wide-eyed. Even Ranel looked impressed.
The helmsman straightened in his seat, hitting the keys on his console with newfound pride and purpose. “Yes, sir!”
The Wyvern released a fierce barrage at the lead Moset ship. Its forward shielding buckled, and it withdrew like a wounded animal. True to form, a pair of smaller fighters screamed in on us from either side of it, like the claws of a vicious beast. Their attack pattern was sharp and coordinated, as they pelted our port and starboard sides simultaneously with what felt like dozens of explosive rounds.
“Shields to seventy percent,” the helmsman reported anxiously. “Should we return fire?”
“No,” Dashel replied. “Keep pressing our advantage with that lead ship. Don't give it a chance to regroup.”
“But the fighters—”
“—can do less damage than that thing will if it gets its offensive capabilities working again,” Dashel cut him off. “We'll have to trust our shields to protect us from the fighters for now, and hope they hold up.”
The helmsman seemed uncertain, but he obeyed Dashel's orders. We surged forward toward the lead ship, ignoring the fighter craft as they swooped and darted around us, hurling laser blasts and bombs against our shields. The Wyvern rocked and spun but kept moving toward its prey relentlessly, punching the bulky vessel in the nose over and over with golden beams from the solar cannons on its undercarriage.
“Shields are down to thirty-five percent,” the helmsman said. “Another pass from those things, and they'll collapse for sure.”
“What's the status of the lead ship?” Dashel asked.
“Their shields are at five percent and dropping fast!” The helmsman's voice went up, excited. “And it looks like we hit the primary and secondary conduits that power their weapons systems!”
“Looks like their only choices are to
retreat, or stay and die,” Ranel observed smugly.
Dashel shook his head grimly. “No. That mangy pack of rabid weasels won't be scurrying back to their hole today. Target the biggest gap in their shields you can find and give them everything we've got.”
There was another massive blast from our cannon, and it struck the lead ship dead center, blowing it to glittering specks.
Before we could celebrate our victory, the smaller fighters closed in from the front, coming right at us with lethal intent. Not only that, but they were joined by two Vence Carapace-class attack cruisers, with weapons arrays that resembled protruding scorpion claws.
“Shields at eight percent.” The helmsman's voice was hoarse with terror. “We won't be able to withstand more than two, maybe three hits from their blasters.”
“My fleet's been reduced by sixty percent,” Lehar reported in a hushed and flat tone, like a doctor giving a terminal diagnosis. “Only four ships left against two dozen Pax vessels.”
A blast thundered against our outer hull heavily.
“Two percent,” the helmsman corrected.
“The pods' pilots are checking in.” Ranel sounded like he'd seen a ghost. “Most of them are either adrift or vaporized. They're trying to mobilize one last offensive run, but...”
Another blast. This time, the lights flickered out completely, replaced by the red glare of the emergency illuminators.
“Shields are gone.”
Ranel turned to Dashel and saluted. “It's been a great honor serving under you, Captain Dashel.”
Dashel opened his mouth to answer and suddenly, a series of deafening blasts echoed on the command deck. Everyone flinched, myself included, figuring this was the end, that we were all a split-second from a fiery death...
