Shadow Agents: The Benevolency Universe (Outworld Ranger Book 2)

by David Alastair Hayden

  “Right,” he said out loud, he had to say out loud, “Mits, have B take control of the skimmer van and wait for my signal.”

  “You got it,” Mitsuki said tenderly.

  Before he could change his mind, before he panicked and decided to face the missile along with Silky, he placed him in the glove compartment. Then he shoved his force-shield inside as well.

  He hit the manual activation switch on the shield then yanked his hand back before it extended. That was the best he could do to protect him.

  For a moment, he expected Silky to comment on how clever his plan was, but he wasn’t there.

  He might never be there again.

  “Wang, crawl into the back seat. Now!”

  Wang unbuckled his seat belt and went into the back. Mitsuki had dropped the back seat into a reclining position and had their gear strapped to her back. She wrapped her arms around Wang, who clutched his duffle bag to his chest.

  Siv pulled back on the steering wheel. The van’s engines growled in agony as it climbed. He pressed a button, and the back doors sprang open. The ground was nearly three floors below.

  “As soon as I’m clear, level out the van and bring it back down!” Siv called back.

  “Hurry,” Mitsuki replied. “The missile’s almost on top of us.”

  With Wang secured in her clawed grip, Mitsuki leaped out the back, her antigrav activated. As soon as she was clear of the van, she spread her wings to glide down. Siv shoved his way between the front seats into the back and grabbed a headrest to hold onto as he fumbled for the manual controls for his antigrav belt, controls he never used. Silky always took care of that.

  Siv found the button and turned his antigrav on, setting it to what he guessed was seventy-five percent. He then glanced back toward the glove compartment.

  “Be safe, old friend.”

  Siv jumped. As he dropped, the missile flashed by above him. The Tober Pinpoint was small, no larger than a heavy plasma pistol.

  He boosted his antigrav all the way, and hit the ground, tucking into a shoulder roll to lessen the impact. When he came to a scraped and bruised stop on the street, he whipped around.

  The missile struck the back of the skimmer van at an angle and exploded. Metal tore and twisted as the back third of the skimmer blew apart.

  The van flipped over twice, skewing to the side, and struck the side of a building with a thunderous crunch. The front end crumpled.

  Siv cried out. His force-shield could only protect Silky from the back. The missile shouldn’t have hurt him, but that might have.

  The van hit the ground, belly up, and erupted in flames.

  40

  Karson Bishop

  Karson woke with a pounding headache. Crates and storage containers floated haphazardly around him. They must have lost the ship’s artificial gravity. Luckily, the magnets in his boots kept him locked to the floor, or what had been the floor anyway.

  “Oxygen…in vault?”

  “Enough to breathe, sir.”

  He retracted the helmet of his spacesuit and threw up. Instantly, he regretted it. Large glops of vomit drifted around him.

  “Are we spinning?”

  “We are, sir. We crashed into a large chunk of debris.”

  Bartimaeus placed a flashing marker in the HUD, bringing Karson’s attention to the wall to his right. As soon as he saw the massive indentation, he flinched. “Damn! We’re lucky that didn’t break through.”

  “We are lucky, sir, that this vault was made to survive a crash-landing. And that the collision dramatically altered our course. We’re still heading toward the planet below, but at our current angle, we will not crash into the rings for another three hours. That’s much longer than the roughly half an hour I estimated before.”

  Karson wiped his mouth with the back of his right hand then replaced the helmet. “How long was I out?”

  “Ten minutes, sir.”

  Karson checked the starkat in the container, which he was still holding onto with his left hand. It mewed at him weakly. Apparently, he wasn’t the only who’d gotten sick after the blast wave struck the vault.

  “How did I manage to hold onto the container while unconscious?”

  “I took over the suit, sir, and activated the grip motors in the left glove.”

  “There are grip motors?”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  “The Outworld Ranger…did it survive the blast?”

  “I have no idea, sir. I can no longer connect to the sensor array.”

  He turned off one of the antigrav belts and breathed a sigh of relief to have that weight removed. He carefully turned down the other belt, adjusting to the sensation as he went.

  He scanned his surroundings and regretted it. The vault was a horror show of floating blood and vomit and a now even more battered corpse.

  He began to consider how to escape the vault. The door didn’t appear to have suffered any damage, but it was locked shut without any power flowing to it.

  Turning down the maglock so that he could take slow, plodding steps, he moved over to the terminal station. He swiped a hand across the screen. It turned on. Smiling, he swiped again to shut it off.

  He knelt, removed a panel from the base, and dug around inside until he found the tiny power pack. All ship terminals had these backup power systems. Researching starship schematics the last few days aboard the Outworld Ranger was paying off.

  “Sir! I’m getting a ping from the Outworld Ranger!”

  “Patch them through!”

  “You are now connected to their comm system, sir.”

  “Bishop?” Oona said. “Can you hear us?”

  A tear of relief rolled down his cheek. “I can! Are you okay?”

  “Thank the Source,” she replied. “We’re all fine.”

  “We are okay,” Kyralla said, “but the ship’s banged up pretty bad, our shields are low, and we have three World Bleeders starfighters closing on us, with their destroyer command ship following behind them.”

  “Sorry we couldn’t communicate with you earlier,” Tekeru said. “We didn’t realize the comms array had suffered damage, and the sensor array was out of alignment.”

  “Kyralla, I’m sorry I didn’t come back immediately,” he said earnestly. “You were right. It was too risky to stay. And we weren’t able to save anyone except Tekeru anyway.”

  “What’s done is done,” Oona replied, but Kyralla made no comment.

  “So…I’m spinning in a secure vault, and Octavian was drifting in space last I knew.”

  “We’ve located him,” Tekeru Jones said. “He’s unharmed. We’re beaming you all our scan data. You should get it any moment now.”

  In his HUD appeared data on the ship and a locator map showing Octavian, the Outworld Ranger, the starfighters, the destroyer, and the larger chunks of debris.

  “We’re trying to figure the correct speed and vector to retrieve you and get moving again,” Kyralla said. “We won’t have long to—”

  “Ion missiles in range,” the ship said.

  “Evasive maneuvers engaged,” Kyralla replied.

  “Flak cannon activated,” Tekeru said.

  The missiles popped up in Karson's locator. He watched Kyralla weave the Outworld Ranger to slow them down. The flak cannon caught the first then the second. She pulled the ship into a steep incline then turned to narrowly avoid the third. As it came back around, the cannons nailed it.

  “Good work!” he told her.

  “Except the evasive maneuvers slowed us down,” she replied.

  “Try to be positive,” Oona told her.

  “Damn,” Tekeru said. “The flak cannon just went back offline. I’ll see what I can do with it.”

  “While you’re back there, see if you can get the railguns going,” Kyralla called out. “Bishop… Honestly, I don’t know what to do. Once we slow down to retrieve you, those starfighters will overtake us. If we can’t maneuver, we’re dead.”

  "The destroyer appears slow," Kar
son said. "You could defeat the three starfighters and then come back for Octavian and me."

  “With the ship in this state, I don’t think I can beat them,” Kyralla said. “I’m not a trained pilot, and these starfighters are better than the ones we faced before. My best chance is to try to outrun them and…I’m not sure that will be enough.”

  “I would caution against underestimating the destroyer’s speed,” Rosie said. “It’s still accelerating. If you engage the starfighters, it will likely catch up.”

  “And you won’t defeat the destroyer,” Artemisia added. “It has three laser batteries, four-quad plasma cannons with three-sixty rotation, six railguns, and four missile bays.”

  “See,” Kyralla said. “We’re kind of screwed.”

  “Give me a moment to think,” Karson said.

  “I can’t give you many.”

  He studied the locator and had Bartimaeus bring up vector and speed calculations. A broad smile spread across his face as An idea came to him.

  “I think Siv and Mitsuki are bad influences,” he told them.

  “Why do you say that?” Oona asked.

  “Because my plans are getting increasingly risky and insane.”

  “A crazy plan is probably what we need right now,” Oona said.

  Karson plodded across the vault to the door. He knelt and placed the containment unit between his knees to keep it from floating away. Then he removed the panel underneath the keypad, searching for the wires he needed.

  “So what’s the plan?” Kyralla asked.

  "I'm going to get out of this vault and use my jets to position myself on a path that will allow you to scoop up Octavian and me without having to slow down as much as a normal rescue recovery would require."

  “What do you mean when you say scoop?” Kyralla asked.

  Karson found the bundle of wires he needed and pulled them out while shoving the others back in.

  "Just before you reach me, you're going to use the maneuvering thrusters to rotate the ship so that you're flying backward. With the boarding ramp retracted and the door open, I'll simply crash into the loading bay. You'll need to have the artificial gravity tuned properly and the inertial dampeners maxed out, of course."

  “That sounds utterly insane,” Oona said.

  “Have a better idea?” he asked.

  No one replied to that.

  “What about Octavian?” Oona asked.

  “I should be able to position myself so that you can do the same thing for him without having to turn too much.”

  “Are you sure this is possible?” Tekeru Jones asked.

  “I’m calculating the trajectories,” Rosie said. “And…I do not believe it is possible to get them both without a major course correction and reduction of speed that would allow the starfighters to easily overtake us.”

  Confused, Karson asked what the problem was.

  “Mr. Bishop, your spacesuit does not have enough propellant for what you’re planning.”

  “Then we may have to leave Octavian behind,” Kyralla said.

  “We are not leaving him behind,” Oona said. “I don’t care if he is just a machine. He saved my life, and we need him on this ship desperately.”

  Karson began stripping the wires he needed. “I have a fire extinguisher that I can use to propel myself.”

  “In that case…” Rosie said. “I do believe it is possible.”

  “Great!” Oona exclaimed.

  “However, there is one problem,” Artemisia said. “I have been running some calculations, and I do not see how Mr. Bishop can survive the impact in the loading bay. Unless we reduce our speed such that—”

  “The starfighters will overtake us,” Kyralla said.

  “At least we would be moving,” Oona said. “That’s better than sitting still while we recover him.”

  “I won’t survive the impact even with the inertial dampeners maxed?” Karson asked.

  "You would need to be moving in the same direction us and at considerable speed," Artemisia said. "Otherwise, the dampeners are just not enough.

  “What if we overpowered the inertial dampeners?” Oona asked.

  “My calculations assumed that we would, madam,” Artemisia said.

  “No, I mean what if I overpowered the inertial dampeners?” she replied.

  “Oh,” Artemisia replied. “I suppose it’s possible, madam. But you would have to power them up to at least five times their normal capacity.”

  “I did better than that with the plasma snubbie,” she replied.

  “Oona, your powers are unreliable,” Kyralla said. “If you failed, Bishop would likely die. And even if you succeed, your powers might have unintended consequences. You could overpower the engines or fry the ship’s electrical systems or cause any number of unpredictable things to happen. You could kill us all.”

  “Do you have another way of beating those starfighters and saving Bishop?” Oona asked.

  Kyralla sighed.

  “Either we leave him behind or we take this chance,” Oona said.

  Kyralla didn’t respond.

  “Don’t look at me,” Tekeru Jones said. “I’m only here because you risked your lives to save me. And you wouldn’t be in this position otherwise. So do whatever you think is best.”

  “I think you should let Oona make the attempt,” Karson said. “But I’m not on the ship, so it’s your call whether to take the risk.”

  “We’re going to save you,” Oona said. “Period.”

  “You’d be putting your life in her hands, Bishop,” Kyralla said. “And you can’t be certain it will work. Her powers are far from reliable.”

  “I believe in Oona,” he told her. “She can do it. Besides, if you don’t pick me up, I’m dead anyway, either at the hands of the World Bleeders or by running out of oxygen. Or you slow down to get me, and the World Bleeders catch us. It’s not like I have many choices.”

  Karson connected the wires to the tiny power pack. He did believe in Oona. She was the hyperphasic messiah. She would restore the Benevolence and save the galaxy. She could do this. And if she didn’t… It wouldn’t be because she was any less. If she’d come into her own already, they wouldn’t be having these problems.

  The keypad lit up. The door and its control system were powered now. Maybe only enough to open once, but that was all he needed.

  He looked at the tangle of wires and considered how lucky it was he’d learned enough to do this.

  “Kyralla, don’t even think about shaving off a minute by not picking up Octavian. We can’t survive without him. With all the damage the ship has taken and with more possibly to come because of the starfighters, I’m convinced he’s essential to our survival.”

  “We will get him if at all possible,” Kyralla replied.

  Karson double-checked his spacesuit, knowing that he would be going out into deep space with no atmosphere whatsoever to protect him.

  “All systems normal, sir.”

  Now he had to make sure his new little friend was secure. He smiled at the starkat, and it gazed at him with large, frightened brown eyes. He sealed the container then anchored it to his suit using a tether with a maglock on the end. A light flashed on the lid, showing him it was airtight.

  “To enable the freezing process, sir, all you have to do is press the green button on the side three times.”

  “Don’t worry, Peachy. We’re about to head toward my ship. You’ll like it there.”

  Karson checked the level of the fire extinguisher. Sixty-two percent of its charge remained. Had he mentioned that to the others? Surely, Bartimaeus had relayed the information to Artemisia and Rosie so they could use it in their calculations.

  He started to ask them if they knew about its level but then changed his mind. Either it would be enough or it wouldn’t. There was no point worrying about it. He would do his best to get into position, and then he’d trust in Oona to save him.

  “Barty, which do you think I should use first? My jets or the extinguis
her?”

  “That is an easy answer, sir. Use the fire extinguisher first. Use your jets last so that you can fine-tuning your exact position.”

  “I can adjust my position by how I aim the nozzle on the extinguisher?”

  “Of course, you can, sir. However, your hand positioning will be less than precise, especially if you’re nervous. However, I can run the jets on your suit, and I do not get nervous.”

  “Good point.”

  Karson took a deep breath and prepared himself. Jumping into space wasn’t going to be easy. And it wasn’t because he’d never done it before. It was the finality of it. Either it worked or…or it didn’t.

  He wanted to go over every detail of the plan two or three, maybe ten times. But he couldn't put it off any longer. It was time to commit. Every moment he wasted would make it harder to line up with Octavian correctly.

  He would be okay. Oona would bring him in safely. He believed in her abilities.

  He picked up the fire extinguisher, took another breath, and then triggered the door.

  As the air rushed out of the vault, the maglock boots rooted him in place. He bent his legs, preparing to kick off so he could start with as much momentum as possible. He ducked as the two crates flew out through the door above him.

  “Sir, watch out!”

  He ducked down as far as he could, but the corpse slammed into his behind and knocked him tumbling out of the vault.

  Fearing that the spinning would make him throw up in his helmet, he clenched his eyes shut and focused on a still image in his mind: his old workbench littered with tools and gadgets.

  “Turning on the spacesuit’s jets, sir.”

  After a few bursts, Bartimaeus stabilized him.

  “You can open your eyes now, sir.”

  “How much fuel did that waste?”

  “We should still be fine, sir. You were heading the correct direction.”

  Taking up most of his view from this height, the barren super-Earth loomed below, encircled by its seven sparkling arcs. He was so close that he could easily pick out individual chunks of ice and rock amongst the nearest ring.

  “It’s so quiet and beautiful from here.”

  “I have oriented you so that your back’s facing the direction you need to travel, sir. And now it’s all on you.”