The Kestral Voyages: My Life, After Berserker

by Steven Lyle Jordan

  The Raians had therefore lit out after what they were sure was the Mary, masquerading as an escape pod, and ignored what they thought was an escape pod masquerading as the Mary. And by the time they realized their error, the real Mary was scant minutes from Deep Abignon.

  Unfortunately, Kestral was beginning to realize, they had severely underestimated the speed of the Raian ship, and the response of its crew upon discovering they had been duped. They had intercepted the pod, destroyed it, and discovered their error quickly, far too quickly. They were now heading for the Mary… again… and Mary was still too far away from Deep Abignon to guarantee they would make it there alive.

  “It’s going to be close… too close,” Kestral said aloud. She considered her options in a quick second. Then, triggering the intercom, she took a deep breath. “People, the plan worked, but not quite good enough. It doesn’t look like we’re going to make it.” Mark paused from his piloting long enough to glance in her direction, but he said nothing. “I want all of you to get to the remaining escape pods,” Kestral continued. “Use the port side pods. Once you’ve cleared the ship, I’ll use the pecans to give you enough cover to give you time to reach the planet… once in the atmosphere, you’ll be safe. That includes you, Dr. Jones. Go now.”

  She toggled off the intercom, then turned to Mark. “You too, Mark. Get Jones to the Rangers for me.”

  “Carolyn!”

  “Don’t argue with me, dammit!” she snapped at him, coming up out of the ops seat. “I’m not going to let you sacrifice your lives over my mistakes!” She grabbed Mark by his shoulders and tried to heave him up out of his seat. “Get out of here now!”

  “Carolyn, I’m not leaving you—”

  “Get off my ship!”

  Before Mark could reply, one of the sensors beeped on the ops station. Kestral and Mark both stopped and stared at the panel, but even without looking, they knew what that tone meant.

  The Mary had picked up the Raians’ targeting scanners locking onto them.

  “Too late,” Mark said quietly. “We’re all burned.”

  14: The Superman

  “We are within cannon range,” the weapons officer reported to K’silk. “We have a positive lock on the freighter.”

  “Fire,” K’silk ordered.

  From the forward emitter ports, twin particle beams lanced out at the Mary. The beams bisected the sky, their intensity creating a visible glow in the void between the ships. It took less than a second for the beam to cross the distance between them.

  But a few hundred meters before it reached the Mary, the twin beams of energy seemed to strike something invisible. The beams glanced off of the invisible barrier, creating a raw white sunburst of energy. The sunburst flared angrily, casting about as if seeking a way past its invisible obstacle, but even its visible light did not seem to be able to cast beyond the invisible wall.

  The invisible wall between the two ships seemed to grow outward, pushing back in the direction of the L’t’meriad. All at once, the Mary was eclipsed by a monstrous shadow.

  “Oan battle cruiser!” the sensory officer shouted. “They have blocked our cannon with their shields!”

  ~

  “Jesus,” Mark muttered. “Those things look awfully big when they drop out of the sun like that, don’t they?”

  He and Kestral watched their visual screens as a Ranger heavy cruiser, gleaming like blue-white fire in the glare of the Abignon sun, descended into a position between them and the Raian ship. The cruiser’s shields had effortlessly deflected the Raian’s beams, and the Raian’s twin lances finally cut off. A moment later, they could not even see the Raians behind the cruiser’s shining bulk.

  “Ranger cruiser Superman to the Mary,” a voice boomed out of their intercom, so suddenly that it startled Mark and Kestral. “We see you’ve picked up a bad element. As soon as we clear the skies for you, we’ll be escorting you down to Deep Abignon.”

  After a moment, Kestral toggled the radio. “This is Captain Kestral of the Mary. We copy that. Thank you, Superman.”

  “All in a day’s work, Captain. Stand by.”

  Of course, there was no doubt as to the outcome between the two ships. The Superman had the L’t’meriad outclassed by a factor of fifty, in armament, complement, and sheer size. Faced with such a no-win scenario, the L’t’meriad turned in the direction of Raian territory and quickly jumped to C, before the Superman had even the chance to challenge them.

  In the meantime, Kestral toggled the intercom and announced, “Crisis over, everyone. Stand down. We’ve been saved by the cavalry.” She stepped back over to the Captain’s station and slumped down in her seat. “Prepare for planetfall on Deep Abignon.”

  Mark also returned to the pilot’s station and, after a moment to collect his wits, began setting up his board for planetary re-entry. When he was ready, and had only to wait for Superman’s signal to proceed, he turned to Kestral. “Carolyn, I wouldn’t have left you.”

  Kestral looked up from her station, and smiled. “I know that. Next time, I’ll just knock you out and throw you out, you mutinous dog.”

  Mark grinned widely. “Oh, you will, will you?”

  “Captain Kestral, is everything all right? Did we just hear something about a mutiny?”

  “Yes, but nothing I can’t handle,” Kestral replied, grinning back at Mark.

  “Understood, Captain. We are transmitting landing course and coordinates for Research Lab Beta. Our shuttlecraft will follow you in and hold your six.”

  “Thanks again, Superman. See you on the ground.” Kestral switched the radio off and turned back to Mark. “You heard the man: Let’s get dirty.”

  “You bet,” Mark replied.

  ~

  Sarander met Angel as they came around the corner approaching the cargo bay. “Hey, Sarander,” Angel smiled. “Everything okay with the engines?”

  “They performed like champs,” Sarander grinned. “How ‘bout in the common areas?”

  “A bigger mess you’ve never seen,” Angel replied. “Like a tornado hit… everything not tied down is strewn all over. Still, beats being dead, huh?”

  “Yeah, I’d say. Going to check on the farm?”

  “Right,” Angel nodded as they reached the bay door. “Want to make sure nothing got too beat up. What are you checking?”

  “My wife,” Sarander replied, hitting the door opener with his palm. “There were a lot of crates in here, and if the webbing didn’t hold…”

  The bay door opened, and both men stopped and stared, eyes bulging. They were staring at a wall of crates, literally covering the entrance to the cargo bay, where they had impacted with the bay doors and piled there. As the door opened, pieces of crates that had been fractured or crushed by the impact, and loose atronics components, tumbled forward onto the deck.

  “Christ!” Sarander exploded. “Tirri!” He lunged at the crates.

  “What?”

  Sarander stopped upon hearing his wife’s voice. He stared stupidly at the crates. Then he looked to Angel, and realized that Angel was calmly regarding one crate in particular. The crate was apparently open on one end, the end that had been against the cargo bay door, and Sarander could not see into it from his position. Angel looked over to Sarander, and motioned for him to move closer.

  He stepped over to Angel, and looked into the open end of the crate. Sarander realized he recognized the markings on the inside edge of the crate… it was one of the crates they had opened and raided for atronics components for their decoy.

  Tirri was sitting cross-legged inside the crate, head in one hand, looking back impatiently at them. She had a nasty cut on the back of her hand, and what looked like a swollen cheek, but she seemed to be otherwise intact.

  “Baby?” Sarander whispered, mouth agape. “Are you okay?”

  “I couldn’t reach the door control or the intercom,” Tirri stated flatly. “It’s about time you guys got here.”

  ~

  Research Station Beta had
a landing pad waiting for the Mary. Actually, they had two pads waiting, side by side. Both were empty, and Mark brought the Mary down precisely in the center of the pad on the right.

  A small group of people immediately streamed out of the nearby research station, upon Mary’s touching down. They approached the port side of the ship, and waited silently by the crew hatch.

  When the hatch finally opened, the delegation was treated to the sight of Moamet Jones, smiling down upon them. They immediately broke out in satisfied smiles, and looked to one another happily. Jones stepped down to the ground, and was quickly surrounded by the members of the delegation, who took turns shaking his hand and patting him on the back.

  Kestral and the rest of Mary’s crew reached the hatch in time to watch this tableau, as well as to witness the delegation heading back to the building in a tight knot, Jones in the center. None of them spared the Mary or her crew a second glance.

  “Did you ever feel more like a taxi driver than at this particular moment?” Mark asked wryly, running a hand through his tousled snow-white hair.

  Before any of them could reply to Mark, an increasing roar of engines caught their attention. They looked up to see their shuttlecraft escort dropping leisurely out of the sky. Since the Superman was too large for planetfall, it had dispatched a shuttle to provide close protection for the Mary as she landed. The Superman shuttle brought itself about until it was parallel with the Mary, and slowly positioned itself over the landing pad next to them. Then it descended smoothly, and touched down at the precise center of the landing pad with barely a jolt.

  Kestral looked amusedly at Mark. Mark simply shrugged. “Decent landing. They probably did it on automatic.”

  As the shuttle’s engines began to cycle down, Kestral and her crew exited the Mary, and she headed for the shuttle. As she approached, the shuttle’s hatch opened on the side facing her. When she was close enough, she called out, “Thanks for the assist, Superm—”

  Her voice immediately trailed off, upon seeing the first person to step out of the shuttle. The greenish-bronze of his tan set a marked contrast against his white Ranger uniform as he alighted and strode towards Kestral. Tirri saw him from the Mary, and her large eyes blinked in shock. Angel also saw him, and said, “Say… isn’t that..?”

  Gellen So extended his hand to Kestral. “It was our pleasure to serve, Captain.”

  Kestral pointedly did not take his hand. Instead, she was staring at his uniform, and the Commander’s insignia on his shoulders. “You’re an officer?” Kestral snapped, her eyes fiery.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gellen So nodded. “And may I congratulate you on a successful run—”

  “Just what the Hell is going on here?” Kestral barked out, leaning threateningly at Gellen So until he leaned back defensively and threw up his hands.

  “I’m sorry, Captain! We could not afford to let people on Kyxha think you were going on a military run. But we needed to get you to Coel, in order to put you in a position to meet Moamet Jones. In fact, if that pilot Doshu May hadn’t shot off his big mouth to the wrong people on Kyxha, the Raians might not have found out about you at all—”

  “This was planned from Kyxha?” Kestral’s arms were rigid at her sides, and her fists knotted and opened reflexively. “You forced me into running a covert Ranger mission… with a civilian crew! Are you out of your mind?”

  Her body language was plain. She was an instant away from lunging at Gellen So, when another voice bellowed out from inside the Superman shuttle.

  “Don’t you hit my officer, Captain!”

  Immediately Kestral held her lunge, and looked up to the hatch of the shuttle. A moment later, a figure stepped forward and into the outside light. Kestral narrowed her eyes to make out his features at that distance. Then her eyes widened and turned cold.

  “Admiral Serle,” she grated.

  “Nice to see you too, Captain Kestral.” Admiral Serle was noticeably older than the others, with a thick shock of white hair capping his head. He was also larger than most of the others, with a muscular build, although it seemed that age was slowly converting some of that muscle to fat. As he stepped down from the shuttle, he considered Kestral with a kind, almost fatherly expression. “And by the way, this is the first chance I’ve had to offer you congratulations for finally getting your own command.”

  Kestral smiled acidly. “No thanks to the Rangers.”

  “I do seem to remember a fairly healthy severance package,” Serle stated matter-of-factly.

  “What’s going on?” Mark had arrived at the Mary’s hatch, in time to see Kestral snarling at the same Ranger officers that had just escorted them to Deep Abignon. Everyone glanced up at Mark, with the exception of Kestral, who continued to glare at Admiral Serle.

  Admiral Serle approached Kestral. “Carolyn, I’m sorry we had to do things this way. But you know, you wouldn’t have agreed to—”

  He was cut off, mid-sentence, once he was close enough to Kestral that she could wind back and punch him in the jaw. Serle’s head snapped around violently, and he almost spun completely about.

  “No,” Kestral said, shaking her sore right hand, “I wouldn’t have.”

  At the Mary’s hatch, the crew stiffened. Tirri immediately looked to Sarander and whispered, “Careful!”

  Sarander looked at her. “About what?”

  In response, Tirri looked pointedly at his pocket.

  “Oh, that,” he said. “The Spiders took it.”

  Tirri did a double-take. “They did? You mean… all this time…?”

  Sarander nodded and shrugged in embarrassment. “Should I make a new one?”

  Tirri considered only a moment. “No.”

  Angel listened to their exchange with interest. “New what?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Tirri and Sarander said in unison.

  “Oh, great,” Angel muttered sourly. “More secrets.”

  Meanwhile, Admiral Serle had slowly straightened up, brought one hand to his jaw, and used the other to wave off his concerned officers and men, who were advancing upon them in defensive mode. Then he turned back to Kestral. “However,” he continued gruffly, “it was a vital task. And I knew you were the best chance of getting it accomplished. The Raians already knew too much about this mission, and any Ranger ship would have been intercepted instantly.”

  “So you decided it was okay to risk the lives of a civilian crew, without granting them full knowledge of the situation!” Kestral took a threatening step towards him. “What the Hell kind of Ranger are you, you bastard!”

  “The kind that knows when a mission is vital enough to risk lives, whatever the cost,” Serle said promptly. “Considering the circumstances, you of all people should understand the importance of finding a cure for the berserker.”

  “I almost lost my crew! It wasn’t worth that!”

  “Yes, it was,” Serle stated coldly. “And you know it.”

  Kestral and Serle glared at each other silently for an extended moment. No one else around them dared speak, either, each of them waiting to see what the final outcome of this standoff would be.

  Kestral moved first. So quickly that Serle flinched, she spun about and headed for the Mary. “Sarander,” she said when she was close to her crew. “See to getting the Mary fuelled up. Angel, check stores and go get whatever supplies we need.” She took one last withering glance back at Admiral Serle. Then she said, “We have a cargo to deliver. We’re off this dirtball as soon as humanly possible.”

  And with that said, she tromped up the ramp, slid past Mark at the hatch and stormed into the Mary, quickly disappearing within its corridors. Mark watched her go, then turned back to look at Gellen So and Admiral Serle, standing next to each other. Serle was looking into Mary’s hatch, as if he could see Kestral within her. When confronting Kestral, Serle’s face had been strong, righteous… the kind of face you’d expect an Admiral to have. But for a moment, his façade dropped, and Mark saw a face that reflected sadness, possibly regret.
Exactly the kind of face you wouldn’t expect to see on an Admiral.

  An Admiral who apparently felt that he had to justify his actions to an ex-Ranger, instead of simply having her arrested for slugging him.

  The moment gave Mark pause, and he studied the two men at length from the top of the crew hatch, before turning and going back inside the Mary.

  15: Mixed Accomplishment

  Kestral did not come back out of the Mary until nightfall, hours later, when Sarander informed her that the ship was fuelled and ready to launch. She left the ship and headed directly for the research station adjacent to the landing pad. She was not challenged at the entrance. Walking in, she found a guard and asked directions. Then she made her way into the station, following the directions she had been given, to a corridor marked in green stripes along the walls and ceiling.

  She eventually found what she was looking for, a single unmarked door, and knocked. A moment later, the door was opened by a man in a white smock.

  “Is Moamet Jones in here?”

  The man nodded and stepped aside, allowing Kestral to enter.

  The room was not much to look at. A small but elaborate apparatus sat on the floor next to a medical chair. In the chair was Moamet Jones. His arm had a large medical cuff affixed to it, below the elbow, and cabled lines ran from the cuff to the apparatus on the floor. The apparatus made no sound, but a small yellow light blinking on a side panel indicated that it was doing… whatever it was supposed to be doing, she presumed.