by James Aspen
“You,” Edolit growled, pulsing anger.
“I see your little gadget has introduced us already, so I’ll skip the introduction,” Captain Numoh said. His voice was dismissive and infuriatingly monotone. “I am at a disadvantage, my dear. I recognize your species. After all, how could I forget Hylia? However, I don’t have a computer whispering your Federation records in my ear. Who are you?”
“Ka’ilk, you monster.”
“Now, now. No need to be nasty, Commander Vyn. You’re better than that, at least according to what your crews’ loyalty leads me to believe.” Numoh stepped closer, his lipless mouth curled into a wry grin.
Edolit pulsed rage. She wished she had the energy to snap his spindly neck, but she knew she was too weak. His guards would have her subdued before she could even stand in the state she was in. Numoh watched her with a vaguely curious expression.
“Ah, yes. I forgot how your kind display their emotions. The darker the red, the more intense the rage, am I right? Such an interesting adaptation. I’m sure it made your ancestors marvelous hunters, being able to communicate without sound.” He shook his head and looked down upon Edolit with a patronizing look. “Such a shame, what happened to your world.”
“How dare you speak of my world, butcher? You were there. You know what you did. How much were you paid to ignore our calls for aid?”
“I was well compensated.” His voice was matter-of-fact, completely devoid of emotion. He gestured to the walls of her cell. “And I was given command of this grand vessel, not some ancient border-patrol frigate with a leaking reactor core. My new masters reward the worthy, they don’t squander them.”
“At what cost? How many died to line your pockets?”
“Yes, I let your world tear itself apart. And I genuinely regret that it came to that. Your species was so much more worthwhile than these disgusting Earthlings. Too bad your leaders failed to make the appropriate deals to protect you.”
“Too bad yours cares more about profit than what is right,” she growled.
“What is right? My dear, we will bring order and prosperity to this galaxy. What could be more right than that?”
“Whatever helps you sleep, monster.”
Numoh frowned and shook his head. “You and your ilk will never understand. You thrive on disorder. Yet, somehow, you got organized enough to become a nuisance. And with these Ambra you wear, you have made yourselves into a surprising effective nuisance. How your group of terrorists developed such advanced technology is of great interest to my benefactors.”
“And who might those be?”
Numoh laughed, a jeering, low-pitched rumble. “I will be conducting this interrogation, not you.”
“You’ll get nothing from me, butcher.” She pulsed the tone of resolve. Numoh’s eyes narrowed.
“We shall see.” Numoh unclasped his arms and revealed her Honor Blade. He casually handed it to the taller Varanul, a gruesome creature covered with deep scars. He met the creature’s eyes and nodded. “You may begin.”
***
Edolit bit her lip hard enough to fill her mouth with the coppery flavor of her blood. She would not give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing her scream.
Captain Numoh watched eagerly as the Varanul sliced into her stomach with the glowing edge of her own Honor Blade. She met his gaze as coldly as she could manage. The sickening smell of her flesh cauterizing tickled her nose and made her nauseous, but she stood tall.
Numoh raised a hand and Edolit let out a faint growl as the creature stopped cutting. He took the blade from the creature and looked down at it, turning it over and inspecting the glowing micro-blades.
“This blade is impressive. Such an elegant adaptation of your planet’s traditional Honor Blades. If your people had these they might have been able to resist us, don’t you think?”
Edolit glared at the Captain, pulsing defiance.
Numoh only smiled and brought the blade up to her neck. The warmth of the blade crept through the layers of her skin.
“Commander Vyn, are you ready to tell me how much your little band knows?”
She growled and spit blood towards the Gryx. She’d hoped it would splash against his face, but it fell short, landing near hit boots.
He looked down and shook his head.
“Now, Edolit, that is unbecoming for a commander such as yourself,” Numoh said cooly. “Your team had such good things to say about you.”
Edolit growled, her skin ripples flashing the pulse of challenge. Among the Hylian he would be honor bound to a duel, though she knew it was lost on him.
“I found it interesting that they said nothing, no matter what we did to them. Nothing, except they’d rather die than betray their commander. Such… loyalty.” He moved closer and clasped her chin with his rubbery hand. “I see nothing here that should inspire such devotion, especially for a Hylian. They’re so much more easily controlled compared to your crews’ species. You will tell me what I need to know.”
A faint, bitter smell tickled at her nose, emanating from his skin. It was a bitter, acrid smell that reminded her of the ozone of blaster bolts. Her mind clouded, and her vision waived. She felt foggy, pliant. Yes, I will tell him anything he wants to know...
Biological Agent Detected - Antibodies deployed. Nian’s steady voice jerked her back from the brink.
A flash of warmth spread through her system as Nian combated Numoh’s pheromones. The pressure in her head receded and her mind cleared. Numoh watched her with a confident sneer. He didn’t seem to know the extent that her Ambra protected her system. That gave her an advantage.
This is my only chance, she thought. She rolled her head back, feigning the mental haze had taken her over. She imagined herself three shots deep of Argothian Liquor at the Jarvus Tavern, and made sure her eyes drooped in a stupor before she rolled her head forward.
She’d seen this happen to others on her home world and never knew what was happening. Her people had never been united, but she’d always wondered how so many would have turned on their own kind. Now she had some idea. Numoh’s rubbery skin on her cheek made her want to cringe, but she fought down a reaction and allowed him to pull her face up to meet his.
Nian, have my dermal glands mimic the pattern on Yaslik’s that last day. Edolit silently ordered.
Done.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Edolit saw her skin fade to a sickly creamy color with streaks of the disconcerting flaxen yellow of sickness. Just like the agents she now knew were controlled by the Gryx had looked during the fall of her planet.
“That’s better. If only your team could see you know, to watch you spill your precious secrets.” Numoh ran his hand over her head, and she kept herself from cringing. His touch was sickening. “Now, where is your base?”
“The moon of Pat’il III,” she murmured, forcing her voice to remain monotone. That entire system was devoid of sentient life, but had enough biosphere on some of its moons for a small colony to survive. It would be a believable location for a base.
Numoh nodded. “And who supplies you with such cutting edge technology as this device?”
So that’s why I’m still alive.
A horrible thought passed through Edolit as she imagined augmented Varanul. The developer had assured them that the Ambra would self-destruct upon user death without a command code like hers, but she’d never really believed that. Sometime, one would eventually slip through their grasps and be captured by the enemy. Then the Resistance would lose their only edge against the Varanul in direct combat. The creatures were hard enough to kill without regenerative powers and strength augmentation.
“The Star Corporation,” she lied. The corporation was rumored to be a supplier for the Varanul, and she wanted to gage his reaction to it.
Numoh’s lipless smile faded into a sneer, and he pushed her head to the side in disgust. “That was sloppy, Commander Vyn. You must know we have operatives in all our rivals. We’d know if they had anything to do with developing anything thi
s interesting.”
Edolit surged forward against her restraints and whipped her head forward. Numoh smoothly dodged her attempt at a head-butt and stepped back. The alien stared at her with a dismissive glower.
“I had hoped to be more... civilized with our interaction.” Numoh looked at her with an almost pained expression. “I hope you can tell me where your little band of insurgents got the advanced tech, for your team’s sake. I’m afraid their loyalty to you may cost them dearly. I wonder who holds your loyalty more, your cause… or your team?
Edolit growled. “You don’t want to find out.”
Numoh laughed, a deep throaty rumble. “I do. I most certainly do.” He waved a hand to the Varanul, and the thing stepped forward again, igniting the cutting edge of her blade. A dull hum filled the small cell. Numoh turned and walked out of the cell, leaving her with the Varanul.
Did you get that? Edolit thought.
Yes, I recorded Numoh’s reaction time. Running analysis now, Nian said.
Good. Let me know when you have his threat analysis complete. The team is running out of time, she ordered silently. And dull my pain receptors again. The cutting is about to restart.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PAUL WOKE UP with adrenaline already coursing through his system.
Wake Up! The ship is under attack! Zyp wailed.
The ship lurched from the force of impact. Paul shot up and sprinted to the cockpit, wondering how he had remembered to reactivate the Ambra before falling asleep.
You didn’t. And you didn’t even say goodnight, jerk. It’s a safety feature. I’m on watch any time you are unconscious. Lucky for us.
“How’d they find us? I thought we were cloaked!” Paul shouted as he scrambled into the cockpit. He lurched to the side when the force of impact hitting the shields nearly knocked him to the deck.
Unknown. Probably scanning for drive signatures or residual heat. They’d know to check routes toward the Gate. Cloaking isn’t perfect, especially under drive. It’s best when lurking behind asteroids to spy on hard targets, not fleeing.
Paul flinched when the shields protecting the viewport flashed red. A laser blast’s energy dispersing too close for comfort. The energy dissipated along the invisible energy barrier and left a glowing flicker in the shields.
He made it into the seat and glanced at the ship’s readouts.
[FORWARD SHIELD: 86%, REAR SHIELD: 65%].
He activated the weapons system and looked out to the sea of stars. The bright blue plume of a ship’s drive trail glowed in the distance as a small fighter ship curved back towards the Specter for another strafing run. His Ambra projected a treat display beside the starfighter in his HUD.
[Lancet-class light starfighter: Threat Level 2. Armament: dual laser cannons. Shields: 100%. Display complete technical data?].
With a jerk of the controls, he angled towards the enemy ship, trying to line up the crosshairs with the small fighter. For the briefest moment, he felt like he was back at home playing Galactic Command. The ship lurched as another blast hit the shields from behind, reminding him of the very real danger of dying in the vacuum of space.
[FORWARD SHIELD: 85%, REAR SHIELD: 61%].
He checked the combat map at the center of the viewport to see how many fighters he was up against. The map was blank. Panic surged through him.
“Are those fighters cloaked too?” he shouted, still trying to veer towards the starfighter ahead of the ship. It had nearly completed its loop.
Of course not. You can’t cloak something that small. Cloak tech blocks your instruments as well as theirs, remember?
“Great, so I guess these target computers are useless,” Paul muttered.
The crosshairs still line up, don’t they? They just don’t tell you when to fire like your lame video games.
“Oh! Well, at least there’s that.”
Laser fire streamed towards the viewport as the enemy starfighter opened fire. Paul instinctively pulled up on the controls and shot away from the stream of fire in a steep climb. Before the enemy could adjust, he reversed the motion and tried to line up a shot on the fighter before it reacted. He held down the trigger and sent a flood of red energy bursts streaming from the Specter, firing wildly into the space around the starfighter, hoping for a lucky shot. Even if he couldn’t score a hit, maybe the ship would break off and give him a half a second to figure out what to do.
A few of his blasts splashed against the starfighter’s shields and it broke off its attack, veering away sharply. He had a moment to see the profile view of the ship. It was a dagger-like design with three small engines on the tips of angled wings.
Zyp let out a whoop that reminded him vaguely of a side character from a movie he’d seen about jet pilots when he was a kid. Why he was thinking about horrible 80s movies during a space battle, he’ll never know. Nice! You scored a hit. Guess you learned a few things from those video games after all.
Another fighter darted past the viewport. Dammit, that means there are at least three of them, Paul thought. He jerked the controls and veered away from the new fighter.
He only had a heartbeat to decide what to do. He could cut drive and float. The cloak would buy him an edge, and his momentum could take him far from the battle. But they’d have some idea of his trajectory from his drive and eventually scramble enough ships to find him. He could try to run and find somewhere to lose them, but they were a long way from any planetoid. He doubted the larger transport ship could outrun small attack fighters, anyway. Which really left only one option.
He took a slow breath.
Before he could question his decision, he deactivated the cloaking device and braced himself for a harrowing experience.
The viewscreen burst to life and he spun the ship in a random vector to buy himself time to assess. The enemy fighters would scramble to get a firing solution on him now that he was de-cloaked, but he needed a plan of attack. There were three ships streaking towards him on the combat map, two quickly coming together into a loose formation to his left, the other coming about below.
At the edge of his sensor’s reach, three more blips appeared.
Great, they’ve got reinforcements on the way, better get out of this quick.
I concur, Zyp said.
Was that worry in the Ambra’s tone?
Yes, it was, Zyp answered Paul’s thought.
He moved to intercept the two on the left before they formed up and was elated when the crosshairs flashed green. He squeezed the trigger and fired a stream of energy into the right fighter. It tried to swerve off, but the pilot was surprised by the sudden direct attack. Paul scored a series of direct hits on it, its shield value rapidly decreasing in his HUD until it hit zero.
One more blast sent the fighter careening away from the battle before it exploded into a cloud of dust.
Well, I’ll be a flurb milker, you aren’t completely useless. Zyp’s tone seemed genuinely surprised.
Paul didn’t have time to respond before the ship shook with impacts. Both remaining fighters had recovered from their disorientation and opened fire.
Paul spun the ship wildly and set thrusters to full. A starfighter burst past his field of view, filling his front shields with a dull glow as a couple of its blasts pummeled the Specter. He pulled back on the controls hard and tried to loop around behind the ship, glancing at his shields.
[FORWARD SHIELD: 75%, REAR SHIELD: 50%].
I can’t keep letting them chip away at me, Paul thought.
The fighter banked left, keeping Paul from getting behind it. He tried his best to match the maneuver, but the fighter moved away, its greater speed and maneuverability a clear advantage against the transport. Paul lurched as his ship took another hit from behind.
Real space battles were a lot harder than he ever could have imagined.
He reset his shields, knowing he’d have to take a few more hits in the rear before this was done.
[FORWARD SHIELD: 15%, REAR SHIELD: 100%].
/> He stayed on his target and lined up a shot. He managed a hit on the small ship before it shot up and away from his vector wildly.
Damn, those things are maneuverable, he thought. He tried to match the maneuver but the Specter couldn’t make the same tight turns as the starfighters. The fighter quickly faded from his viewport, and he knew it would eventually get around behind him. Bolts of laser fire filled his viewport. The pilot behind him fired wildly, no longer concerned about hitting its wing mate anymore.
I can’t out maneuver them. Time to try something else, he thought.
Especially not the way you’re flying. Paul could hear a grim tone in Zyp’s voice. The Ambra didn’t seem to think he’d pull this off.
“Oh yeah? Watch this.”
Paul broke off pursuit of the first fighter and barrel rolled, ignoring the rapidly decreasing value of his shields and focusing on his combat map. He straightened out the ship, gripped the throttle, and waited. The red icon of an enemy ship lined up behind him and the ship lurched with a series of direct hits. The second flight group of starfighters was nearly in firing range. It was now or never.
Here goes nothing. Paul pushed the throttle as far away from him as it could go, and his stomach lurched.
The ship slowed quickly from the sudden reverse thrust, and his pursuer shot past in a blur, narrowly missing a collision. Paul smoothly pulled the throttle and squeezed the trigger, accelerating behind the enemy fighter as he shot wildly. He filled the space around the tri-winged fighter with laser fire. The starfighter didn’t recover from Paul’s rapid deceleration in time, and he managed to line up a clear shot. His steady stream of laser fire made the enemy ship’s shields glow. It tried to break away too late, and exploded with a blinding flash. Paul flew straight into the rapidly expanding cloud of super-heated metal and dust.
With a blur of movement over the controls, he changed vectors, cut throttle to zero, and engaged the cloaking device. He held his breath, expecting the ship to rattle from impacts. He hoped the debris from the destroyed starfighter would make it hard for the remaining ship to pick up his trajectory before he fell off their scanners. It was a gamble, but it was the best he could come up with. The transport wasn’t maneuverable enough for a dog fight, especially with three more starfighters closing in.
