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

by David Alastair Hayden

  “Then it’s a damned good thing I didn’t throw the plasma pistol in here. I could’ve blown up the entire building.”

  “I would have warned you, madam.”

  Ceiling tiles, knocked loose from the explosion, had fallen throughout this level, exposing the concrete above. One section of concrete was cracked and blackened where the blast had nearly punched through. They were lucky to be alive.

  Mitsuki had almost reached their exit window when she heard weapons fire above.

  The sky-blade crashed through the ceiling. Big chunks of concrete rained down around it.

  Mitsuki sprinted for the window. The sky-blade zipped in front of her, blocking the way. She turned to run the other way and collided with Siv, nearly knocking them both down.

  Kaleeb jumped down through the hole the sky-blade had made, landing in a perfect action pose, with his neural disruptor and sniper pistol aimed at her. His armor was scorched on one side, which could only mean one thing. The blast had knocked out his force field.

  Mitsuki drew her plasma pistol, the only weapon she and Siv had left between them unless Siv still had his disruptor.

  Vega Kaleeb shook his head. “I have grown tired of playing, Ms. Reel.”

  The sky-blade zoomed up and held one of its many whirring blades to Siv’s throat.

  “You, Ms. Reel, I need alive. Gendin…” he shrugged his shoulders. “I get the same amount for him if he’s dead.”

  44

  Kyralla Vim

  Oona screamed when Tekeru pulled off the command station circlet, and then she collapsed in an unconscious heap in the chair.

  Every fiber of Kyralla’s being wanted to leap out of her chair and rush to her sister’s side. But she didn’t. She stayed plugged into the piloting station and did her best to maintain her composure. Even as the ship rocked, the consoles sparked, and the alarms blared, she remained focused.

  She had a job to do, and their lives depended on it. Besides, this wasn’t the first time Oona had collapsed. It wasn’t even the first time this week. And Octavian was already limping over to help her.

  Everything would be okay.

  Or it wouldn’t.

  Either way, the only thing she had control over right now was piloting the Outworld Ranger and keeping Oona out of reach of those World Bleeders ships. That was her job. That was how she could be Oona’s protector. She had to learn to stop panicking about Oona’s messianic episodes. Doing so achieved nothing.

  There was no point in second-guessing Oona’s decision to enhance the ship’s capabilities. Or even their decision to come here in the first place. Those were Oona’s choices to make, and Oona was going to do what Oona thought was right. It was who she was, and truthfully, it was what Kyralla loved and admired most about her sister.

  Besides, if any messiah was going to survive the Awakening, it was going to be Oona. Not because of the priestess but because Oona had such a kind soul, a soul that had to help others any way that it could.

  Kyralla pulled back on the accelerator. This time the Outworld Ranger responded, and the ion engines throttled down. She didn’t fire the thrusters to reduce their speed, though. If she were careful, they’d have a few more minutes before they’d have to slow down, and she needed to maintain as much distance as possible between them and the faster starfighters.

  Octavian bleeped and trilled as he scanned Oona. Rosie translated.

  “Physically, Oona shows no signs of injury or illness. Her neural networks, however, are firing at unprecedented levels. Giving her Awake or Calm could make things worse, so I recommend waiting and keeping an eye on her.”

  Kyralla responded through Rosie. “I understand. Just focus on repairing the ship.”

  Octavian gave an affirmative bloop and hurried off the bridge, metal feet clicking frantically as he raced toward engineering.

  Bishop nearly crashed into Octavian on his way onto the bridge. He stumbled out of the cog’s path and cried out as the movement jarred his injured arm. Octavian beeped in apology and trundled past.

  Bishop grimaced as he clutched his shoulder. “I should try to help Octavian.”

  “No. Stay here,” Kyralla replied. “Tekeru, you go help Octavian.”

  Tekeru rushed off the bridge. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Shouldn’t I be the one going?” Bishop asked. “I know I’m kind of beat up right now but—”

  “You have three broken ribs, a fractured humerus, and a mild concussion, and you are only this active because of the stimulant and pain reliever Octavian gave you,” Bartimaeus said aloud over the ship’s comm. “You will be of little help to Octavian.”

  “And I need more brainpower here on the bridge,” Kyralla said. “I can’t be the only one up here if the starfighters catch up to us. Besides, if your crazy plan goes sideways, you’ll need to think of a fix.”

  Seneca sped onto the bridge, lifted Oona from the command chair, and placed her onto the antigrav sled. Rosie told them Seneca was taking her to the captain’s quarters and would stay with her.

  Bishop dropped into the command chair with a grunt and placed the circlet on his head. “If this plan goes sideways, we’re dead.”

  “Comforting,” Kyralla responded. “Are we certain there’s not a better plan?”

  “We’re not going to outrace those starfighters to the breakpoint,” Rosie said. “And if we fight them, the destroyer will catch up. I believe Mr. Bishop’s insane yet brilliant plan is our best shot.”

  “I concur,” Artemisia added. “I can’t wait to tell Silky all about it. Assuming we don’t all die a horrible death.”

  Kyralla rolled her eyes. “Well, here goes nothing then.”

  She pushed the Outworld Ranger as fast as it could go. Thanks to Oona’s boost, that was significantly faster than normal. They shot past the planet’s glistening rings on an orbit that would take them up and over the super-Earth’s northern pole.

  The starfighters followed, steadily gaining on them.

  “The starfighters will be in reliable targeting range in three minutes,” the ship’s AI announced. “The destroyer will be in missile range in seven minutes, thirty-four seconds.”

  As they arced over the north pole, Kyralla adjusted their orbit to place them on a crash course with the planet’s rings. Then she zoomed in her view of the rings, trying to find the best route to take.

  The rocks, dust, and ice crystals that formed the world’s distinct rings were too densely packed for her to weave directly through one. She’d have to squeeze through one of the gaps between the seven rings.

  Seven…

  Kyralla focused her HUD view on the central ring, which was by far the broadest of them. She marked a spot and relayed it to the viewscreen on the bridge. “Is it just me, or are there eight rings? Because I’m seeing a tiny gap there.”

  “It’s not large enough for that ring to be properly considered two separate ones,” Artemisia answered.

  “Could I fly through it?” Kyralla asked.

  “With care, yes,” Rosie answered. “But only just. It’s much more narrow than you realize. And a few rocks, as well as dust and ice particles, bridge the gap.”

  “I’m not sure it’s worth the risk,” Artemisia said. “Flying through one of the proper gaps would be much safer.”

  “Safer maybe,” Bishop replied. “But given how large that central ring is, they’ll have to follow us through.”

  “But we need to drop the fusion core behind us,” Artemisia. “If they choose to lose the ground they’ve gained by not following, then—”

  “They’ll follow,” Kyralla said. “I feel certain of that.”

  “Besides, the explosion should catch them either way. Directly or indirectly, by kicking ring debris everywhere,” Bishop said.

  Kyralla smirked. The explosion was likely going catch them as well. “Then I say we risk it.”

  “We’ll line up the safest course possible,” Artemisia said with a sigh.

  “Fusion core containment f
ield failure imminent,” the ship’s AI announced.

  “Exactly how long do we have?” Kyralla asked.

  “Five to six minutes,” Artemisia replied.

  “And how soon will we reach the gap we’re aiming for?” Bishop asked.

  “Six minutes,” Artemisia said.

  “Well, that’s great,” Kyralla replied.

  She studied the flight course Artemisia had loaded into the ship’s system. It required a twenty-eight percent reduction in speed and the use of thrusters to be sure they cleared a few large chunks of rock and ice.

  “What if I don’t slow down?” Kyralla asked. “What if I plunge straight through with only minimal maneuvering?”

  “That would get you through the gap in four minutes,” Rosie answered. “But I have to warn you that from this range our sensors are limited. They’re not calibrated to scan for small debris, and due to damage, they’re not operating at peak efficiency.”

  “I don’t think we have a choice,” Kyralla responded.

  “We could slow down enough to get us through in four and a half minutes,” Bishop suggested. “That should be somewhat safer.”

  “I’d like to put as much distance between us and that fusion core as possible once we dump it,” Kyralla said. “Possibly smacking into a rock is a risk I’m a lot more willing to take.”

  Artemisia loaded a new routine, and under the AI’s control, the thrusters adjusted the angle of their approach.

  “Shields focused rearward,” Bishop said.

  Kyralla centered her mind. The enemy was nearly in range to open fire, and she needed to be prepared to see into the future and alter their course as they flew through the gap.

  Two of the starfighters opened fire. Refusing the ship’s desire to perform an evasive maneuver, Kyralla slammed the control-stick hard right and sent the ship into a roll. Two white bolts of plasma streaked by. Two others struck them.

  “Shields down to thirty-four percent,” Rosie said.

  “I’ve pressurized the loading bay and turned off the artificial gravity and inertial dampeners there,” Bishop said. “We can expel the fusion core when ready.”

  As the ship neared the gap, all three starfighters opened fire. Failing to evade properly since she was trying to conserve their speed, four plasma cannon shots struck them.

  “Shields down to eighteen percent,” Rosie said.

  “The fusion core’s containment field is failing,” Artemisia said. “We need to dump it now.”

  “We’re almost there,” Kyralla said. “We can make it.”

  “Flak cannon and railguns now online,” the ship’s AI announced. “Power relays repaired.”

  They didn’t need those weapons right now, but they could certainly use their power.

  “Rerouting all weapon system power to the shields,” Bishop said. “Shields upon to twenty-four percent.”

  Tekeru Jones rushed onto the bridge and dove into the sensor station. He placed the circlet on his head. “Octavian said my brainpower would be more useful than my hands.”

  Octavian was correct. A dozen or more smaller ring fragments immediately popped up in Kyralla’s locator.

  Along with Artemisia and the ship’s AI, she tried to find a way to thread through the gap without hitting anything. But there was no way for a ship of the Outworld Ranger’s size to entirely avoid all the fragments.

  “We’re going to have to shift the shields forward before going through,” Rosie said.

  “We can’t expose ourselves to those plasma cannons,” Bishop responded. “Can’t the hull withstand a little debris?”

  “At our current speed, even some of the smaller fragments could cause significant damage,” Rosie replied.

  “Maintain aft shields,” Kyralla said. “I’ve got this. Bishop, stay focused.”

  The starfighters opened fire again. She saw the plasma bolts a moment early and rolled the ship while jerking upward then back down on the control stick. They lost some speed, but it was worth it. She dodged three of six fiery bolts completely. One struck a glancing blow on the shields, and two landed solidly.

  “Shields down to eleven percent,” Rosie said.

  A meter in Kyralla’s HUD showed that the starfighters would be able to fire again just before they reach the gap. Because she needed to keep the ship lined up accurately, she wouldn’t be able to do any evasive maneuvers, not even a well-timed roll. They’d have to take the shots and hope for the best.

  She said a quick prayer to the Source of the Benevolence…for all the good that might do.

  “Bishop, are you ready?”

  “I am.”

  “If this doesn’t work…”

  “We’ve done our best.” He shrugged. “That’s all we can do.”

  “I guess so.” Kyralla refocused on her station. Her knees shook with fear, but her hands stayed steady.

  The starfighters opened fire in sequence. Two plasma bolts scored direct hits.

  “Shields to five percent,” Rosie said.

  Two more struck.

  “Shields down.”

  The last two blasted against the hull, rocking the ship. Kyralla struggled with the control-stick and only barely managed to maintain their course.

  “Direct hit,” the ship’s AI called out. “Cargo bay one breached. Plasma wall holding. Minimal internal damage. Life-support in both cargo bays now offline.”

  Kyralla breathed a sigh of relief that the World Bleeders hadn’t struck the loading bay and detonated the fusion drive. Knowing the starfighters would be erased along with them was not particularly satisfying.

  As they neared the narrow gap through the central ring, it loomed in her HUD. The path they’d chosen was blocked by three larger fragments. It would be up to her to actually pilot them through.

  “Now, Mr. Bishop,” Artemisia said.

  Bishop ejected the fusion drive from the back of the Outworld Ranger. “Bombs away.”

  With the engines still maxed out, Kyralla plunged the Outworld Ranger through the gap. Working in conjunction with the AI, she made a half roll and a slight pitch to avoid the first large fragment.

  She pulled up and banked the ship around the second, but only narrowly. She then cut the control-stick hard right and down to duck past the third. She wasn’t quick enough. The bottom portion of the rock scraped across the top of the ship.

  “Quad plasma damaged and offline,” the ship’s AI announced. “Sensor array damaged. Status unknown.”

  The impact knocked them slightly off-course. She corrected as quickly as possible, but a number of tiny fragments pelted the ship.

  “Flak cannon damaged and offline. Hull integrity weakened in all forward sections.”

  As the ship sped out the other side of the rings, Kyralla took a deep breath and relaxed for a moment.

  The starfighters slowed before reaching the gap. Then, presumably having spotted the fusion core, they took immediate evasive maneuvers.

  “Containment field down,” Artemisia said.

  A bright explosion blossomed behind them.

  “All power to shields!” Bishop said.

  As planned, every system on the ship went dark except for life support. Even the ion engines shut down, despite their need to accelerate out of the planet’s gravity well. They would ride the shockwave to freedom. Or die.

  “Shields to twenty-five percent!” Rosie said.

  That was two percent better than they’d hoped.

  “Launching phantom emitter,” Bishop said. “Our transponder is off, and the signal from the emitter is now active.”

  The shockwave struck them.

  “Shields to zero,” Rosie said.

  Once again the Outworld Ranger bucked, groaned, and tumbled. Kyralla blacked out as the ship’s AI began its damage report.

  ***

  Kyralla woke to Octavian stepping away from her, an injector in his hand.

  “You just received a dose of Awake, madam.”

  She glanced around, groggy, her head
spinning. The ship’s bridge appeared undamaged. Octavian was heading toward Tekeru Jones, who was slumped over the sensor console.

  “We’re alive. And on course. I can’t believe it.”

  “Artemisia and I managed to stabilize the ship and fire the ion engines. We’re nearing the breakpoint.”

  “The destroyer?”

  “Mr. Bishop’s scheme worked brilliantly, madam. The combination of the phantom emitter’s signal, our powering down, and the scattering of ring debris confused them. They slowed down to avoid the shockwave and debris, adjusted their course toward the emitter, and then readjusted when they realized their mistake.”

  Kyralla finally managed to focus on the locator in her HUD. Six ion missiles zoomed toward them. “The missiles…”

  “Will never reach us in time, madam.”

  Kyralla looked over her shoulder, fought back a wave of nausea, and smiled at Bishop. “Your crazy scheme pulled us through.”

  “Barely,” he replied weakly. “Have you seen the damage report yet?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t recommend looking at it unless you want to be depressed. The ship’s in rough shape.”

  “Silky’s going to be pissed,” Rosie said aloud.

  “Oona!” Kyralla said, attempting to stand. “She wasn’t in a station chair when the shockwave struck! She—”

  “She’s fine,” Artemisia said. “Seneca strapped her to the bed for safety before leaving the room and stationing himself in the galley.”

  Kyralla sighed with relief and dropped back into her seat. “Her status?”

  “Unchanged,” Artemisia answered. “Coming up on the breakpoint now.”

  Kyralla stood and limped over to the command chair. She patted Bishop on the shoulder then gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Get us out of here.”

  45

  Oona Vim

  A white light burned in the distance. It was something more than a mere star. It was almost alive. Oona flew toward it faster than light, faster even than the swiftest ship traveling through hyperspace.