He noted his own body’s response to the present situation. His adrenal gland had kicked into action, pumping hormones into his system. Adrenaline increased his heart rate and blood pressure, while cortisol elevated the sugars in his bloodstream. He could feel all of it. All natural, primal responses to stressful, dangerous situations. His Juttari medical implants moved quickly to counter nature. Medication was released into his bloodstream, negating his body’s hormonal response. It worked to calm his mind and body, and regulate his heart rate and blood pressure. In short order, his breathing slowed, and he achieved a calm, Zen-like state. It allowed him to think clearly, his mind free of distracting, potentially paralyzing emotions.
“Prepare to jump to previous coordinates on the other side of this planet,” said Bast. “Jump when ready.”
“Yes, Sir,” said the helmsman.
The jump system was engaged, creating a jump field around the Chaanisar ship and the drones swarming it. The ship jumped, folding space and reappearing at its previous location. The drone swarm appeared in kind and resumed its attack.
“Take us away from the planet. Thrusters at full power.”
The cruiser’s engines fired and the Chaanisar ship vaulted forward, temporarily breaking free of the swarm. The drones gave pursuit. They were small and nimble and quickly caught the massive vessel. The cruiser’s guns kept firing, but the swarm still possessed a massive numerical advantage. It gained on the cruiser and began to envelop it once more. The batteries couldn’t keep up and the cruiser began taking damage again. The damage would increase incrementally until the cruiser was crippled, then destroyed.
“Activate the FTL drive,” said Bast.
The cruiser surged forward, quickly surpassing the speed of light. The drone swarm was left behind. With no FTL capabilities of their own, the fighters had no hope of keeping up with the more capable vessel.
That was all Bast needed. “Disengage FTL drive, and jump back to previous coordinates behind the Kemmar vessel,” commanded Bast.
The ship dropped out of light speed and slowed to make its jump. It folded space again and reappeared behind the Kemmar. This time the fighter drones didn’t come along for the ride. They remained on the other side of the planet, no longer a threat.
“Fire all weapons,” said Bast. “Set rail guns to offensive mode.”
The cruiser attacked the alien ship with a ferocity the Kemmar couldn’t match. The Chaanisar unleashed a combination of gun batteries, energy weapons and missiles.
“Target their batteries,” said Bast.
The Chaanisar weapons systematically attacked the Kemmar gun batteries, one by one. The Kemmar ship simply couldn’t defend itself against such a powerful onslaught.
The Kemmar tried to fight back. They traded blows with the Chaanisar, lighting up the void with a crisscross of red and blue energy fire. The Kemmar defenses were quickly overwhelmed, however. One by one the Kemmar batteries were methodically destroyed. The enemy fought as long as it could, but without the fighters they were woefully mismatched.
A final wave of Chaanisar missiles breached what was left of the Kemmar defenses and found their reactor. A massive concussive wave followed, tearing the enemy warship apart, until it was nothing more than a field of scrap metal.
“Contact the landing party,” said Bast. “Let them know it’s safe to return.”
Chapter 5
“Why do the Diakans help us, father?” said Jon, pushing aside a hanging branch, as they hiked through the mountain forest. They moved furtively, his father leading the way, several men following behind Jon. Above them the tall pines swayed and danced with the mountain winds.
“The Diakans are no different than the Juttari, son. Never forget that,” said Collin Pike, Jon’s father, without breaking stride. “They don’t give a damn about us, or our planet.”
“But they’re our allies. They’re giving us weapons so we can fight back. Some say their starships have entered the Sol System and are fighting the Juttari in space. Why would they do all that if they didn’t want to help us?”
His father frowned. He shook his head and looked back at Jon with his one good eye. “You’re as strong as a man, but you still think like a child. The Diakans are using us. And we’re using them. That’s all there is to it. By pushing the Juttari out of this system they expand their empire. It helps us gain some freedom, so we go along with it. It sure as hell is better than living under the Juttari boot. But don’t fool yourself. The Diakans are not our friends.”
Jon walked quietly through the brush, thinking about his father’s words. He dropped his hand, letting it rest on the grip of the gun strapped to his thigh. A Diakan energy weapon. He remembered how his grandfather’s eyes lit up when the first shipment of these weapons arrived. He had stared at them with wonder and declared it the dawn of a new age. Of course in his day the only weapons accessible were Juttari, weapons stolen from the government. Now, with Diakan backing, there was a steady supply of arms finding their way into the resistance.
“The Diakan weapons have made us more successful,” said Jon, gripping the weapon tighter. Its cold metal reassuring him. “More people join us each day. The population wants to fight, where once they only cowered in fear. This is the result of Diakan help. I am thankful for that help,” said Jon.
His father’s laughter surprised him. “Be thankful all you want, son. Just be smart at the same time. We may live hard, but we live free. There is no substitute for freedom. Never forget that.”
“Do the Diakans not help us fight for our freedom?”
“What do you think will happen when we push the Juttari off our planet? Do you think the Diakans will just leave us to our freedom?”
“If they leave the Juttari will return.”
“Now you’re using your head, son. The Diakans will not leave. They’ll stay, and we’ll want them to.” His father stopped and turned to face Jon. “Imagine a baby left alone in these woods,” he said, waving his arms at the thick forest surrounding them. “How long would it stay alive?”
“Not very long,” said Jon.
“We are that baby. We need protection so that we can grow up and protect ourselves. The question is, will the Diakans allow us to grow up?”
“Why wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t it be better for them?”
“Perhaps. If we remained allies. The Diakans are smart. They will allow us to gain power up to a point. If we gain too much, we become a threat. Do you think they will allow that to happen?”
“No,” said Jon.
His father slapped his back. “That’s right. Nobody tolerates threats. Not the Juttari, not the Diakans, not us. Enough talking now. We’re getting close to the rendezvous point. Remember, when we get there you watch and listen. Don’t say anything. Understood?”
“Yes, father.”
His father turned away and resumed his path through the brush, the plants and low hanging branches no match for his powerful frame. Jon heard coyotes yelping in the distance. He enjoyed listening to their banter, especially their howls. The sound comforted him. Coyotes were survivors, just like his family.
They hiked for a few more kilometers through the rugged, wooded terrain. The brush was thick but they remained in single file, walking in each other’s footsteps, careful not to leave too much evidence of their passage. The forest came alive around them. Jon listened to the birds singing overhead, and filled his lungs with the cold, clean mountain air.
There were times when he wondered if these woods were not the last truly free place left on Earth. Although there had been some feeble attempts by the government at rooting the resistance out, in the end they were nothing more than half-hearted failures. The resistance could defend these mountains for years if needed. The Governor didn’t have the guts to commit to that type of campaign. He was happy enough preying on the towns, where people lived in fear. That way he could meet his quota of children for the Chaanisar, without too much of a headache. But all that was changing. Where the resistance w
as once nothing more than a thorn in the Governor’s backside, now it was turning into a credible adversary. They were becoming an army, armed with powerful Diakan weapons. The Governor wouldn’t be able to ignore them for much longer. Especially not after their next mission. Jon breathed in another lungful of free mountain air. He would see the end of the Juttari occupation. Of that he was certain. What had been just a dream for his grandfather would become reality in Jon’s lifetime.
His father slowed, holding up a fist as he stopped. Up ahead Jon could make out a small clearing. He dropped into a crouch as he shouldered his weapon. The men behind him silently did the same. Whoever was in that clearing wouldn’t know they were there. In these woods they were ghosts. Jon’s father approached quietly, scanning the area. Jon’s heart beat faster, harder. He worried for a moment that it might be making too much noise. He watched his father intently, and trained his weapon on the clearing. His hand remained steady. If anyone was waiting in ambush for them, they would pay a heavy price for their foolishness. He would make sure that nobody left these woods alive.
His father soon signaled that it was safe to come out, and headed for the clearing. Jon followed him in, his weapon still shouldered and ready. Two aliens stood in the middle of the open area, with a small spaceship resting just behind them. Jon assumed they were Diakans. He had never seen a Diakan before. The sight fascinated him. They were odd looking creatures, a bizarre cross between a lizard and a fish. Green skin and scales covered disproportionately long arms and legs. Both wore military uniforms and were armed. Collin Pike approached. Jon followed, staying a couple steps behind, still gripping his weapon, but pointing the muzzle at the ground, rather than the Diakans.
One of the aliens locked eyes with Jon. He met the alien’s gaze without looking away. They didn’t scare him, although he knew they should. These creatures ruled large swathes of the galaxy. What was he to them? As insignificant as an ant under his feet. Still, he didn’t care. Whether they were friend or foe, he would not look away. They didn’t rule in these woods. The resistance did. The Diakan continued to stare, its face expressionless. Jon stared back, unable to decide whether it was curiosity, or a challenge. He knew he didn’t like it. He couldn’t put his finger on the reason, but he felt an arrogance emanating from the alien.
“The weapons are in the ship,” said Jon’s father, seizing Jon’s attention. During the staring contest his father had discussed matters with the other Diakan. Jon had been told to listen and pay attention, but he got caught up in his silent pissing match and missed what had been said. Did his father know he had been distracted? He stood for a moment, searching his father’s face for a clue. “Get moving,” his father snapped, jolting Jon into action.
He rushed over to the humming craft with the rest of the men. The alien’s eyes followed, as if continuing to quietly issue a challenge. Jon hated giving it the satisfaction of looking away, but he had work to do. He couldn’t have his father calling him a child again. As they approached the vessel its side slid open revealing several crates made of some type of polymer. He had seen the crates before, in previous weapon shipments. The men paired up, and pulled the crates out of the craft. Jon gripped his end of a crate and yanked it out of the ship. It was heavy, but nothing Jon couldn’t handle. Even at fourteen years, he already towered over most men. He didn’t yet have the thickness of frame his father had, but he was still strong. He had benefited from the endurance of youth. Growing up in the mountains had made him healthy and hardy.
When the crates had all been unloaded Jon’s father thanked the Diakans and walked out of the clearing, back the way they came. Jon and the rest followed in pairs, weighed down by the crates. The Diakans watched as they left. Jon looked back to find the Diakan’s eyes still on him. The eyes were expressionless, yet he still felt the unspoken provocation.
Head games, he thought. The Diakans are playing head games with me. He chuckled at the thought. Why would a Diakan waste his time with a human boy? His father was right, he did think like a child. The Diakan had said nothing to him, yet he let it get under his skin. He needed to control his emotions, or he would get people killed.
Chapter 6
The two small weighted metal balls whistled as they whipped through the air, nothing more than a blur to the naked eye. Anki tightened her grip on the thin rope as she rushed forward. She imagined Kemmar soldiers coming for her and could see the shock in their eyes as she charged them. With a snap of her tiny wrist the balls changed direction, flying downward. She imagined them connecting with the Kemmar, dropping the monsters one by one with each strike. The balls made a sharp clanging sound as they hit the metal floor. She felt the recoil and compensated, snapping her wrist again, the balls continuing in their circular trajectory. She broke into a run. More Kemmar approached and she fearlessly ran into them, swinging the rope in a figure eight pattern, each time hitting the floor in hard, rapid strikes. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. The echo bounced throughout the room. She imagined the sound their weapons made as she skillfully disarmed every one of them. She snapped her wrist again and the rope swung underneath her as she dove over it. Another flick and it whipped above her while she tumbled along the floor. She sprang to her feet, the heavy spheres continuously spinning around her, establishing a protective radius. The Kemmar retreated. She took in a deep breath and readied herself for another charge.
“Stop,” yelled Jonas, Anki’s grandfather.
She eased the muscles in her forearm, and the balls slowed in response. A few revolutions more and she had the pair of small spheres in her little hand. She brought an arm to her forehead and wiped the perspiration away as she turned to face her grandfather. He stood at the other end of the room, his body perfectly straight, his face hard, his eyes fierce. She held her breath, waiting for his response. Her heart jumped for joy when she noticed the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. It was there only for an instant, but she knew she saw it. High praise from her grandfather.
“You need to make your circles smaller,” he said.
“Smaller?” said Anki, confused by her grandfather’s observation.
“Yes, smaller.”
“I don’t understand.”
Her grandfather walked across the room toward her. “Give me your lariat,” he said, extending out his hand. Anki placed the weighted rope belt into his palm and he backed away.
“You rely on your forearm too much,” he said, as he walked into the middle of the room. He shot out the lariat and had it immediately spinning at phenomenal speed. His hand moved and the rope changed directions. “Do you see how my forearm moves?”
His forearm did move, albeit not much. “Yes,” said Anki.
He moved again and the weights changed direction. “Can you anticipate my strike through the movement of my arm?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think so.”
He nodded. “Can you see my forearm move now?”
The rope changed directions but she didn’t notice any movement in his arm. The trajectory changed again, still nothing. He whipped the weighted balls around, yet each time he changed tactics she could see nothing. If she had been fighting him she wouldn’t be able to guess which shape the next attack would take. If the enemy didn’t know which way the next attack would come, they couldn’t get out of the way. Her grandfather slowed the rope until it stopped. He walked back to Anki and handed her back the lariat.
“Make the circles smaller, until they are almost non-existent. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“Good,” he said, turning and walking back across the room. “Now try again.”
Anki took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them the room was once again full of Kemmar soldiers. She scowled, lunged forward and shot out the weights at the closest one. She broke into a run, her weapon striking out at each of her enemies, careful not to telegraph her strikes with her arm. They came at her from all angles. She leaped and ducked and sidestepped out of the way of the
attacks, all along countering with a precise strike of her own. They were overrun. The onslaught relentless. But she was a cyclone. A spinning, dancing fury. Some charged carelessly, deceived by her age and size. They required almost no effort. Others saw her prowess. They were more challenging, striking at her multiple times before she overcame them.
The door opened and distracted her from her mission. She looked to see what new danger approached, when she saw her mother enter instead. They exchanged smiles. Anki’s attention turned back to her battle, finishing off the remaining enemy. Returning the double weights to her hand, she ran to her mother, who now stood next to her grandfather.
“You’ve improved, child. Well done,” said Breeah.
Anki felt a surge of pride rise up inside her. She had never seen anyone more skilled with the lariat. Even her grandfather, who had trained her mother, said she had surpassed his ability.
“Now you just need to make your circles smaller,” said Breeah.
Anki frowned. “But I fixed that problem.”
“It will take more practice than that,” said Jonas. “Fear not, it will come. Now why don’t you go and get yourself a drink of water.”
Anki sighed and walked over to the fountain. She took a long drink, wondering how long it would take to be as skilled as her mother. When she walked back, her mother and grandfather were talking to each other.
“Do you know who we were in battle against today?” said Jonas.
“The Kemmar,” said Breeah. “They were fighting over an escape pod.”
“From Jon’s old ship?”
“Yes.”
“And where was Jon during the encounter?”
“He led a team down to the surface, to rescue any survivors. He should be back on board soon.”
“So his mission was successful?”
“Yes, although I’m told they fought a Kemmar force on the surface.”
The Pike Chronicles - Books 1 - 10 Page 50
