The Specter Rising

by James Aspen

  “That should do for now. The rest can wait, I’ll be fine,” she said.

  Omaro’s maxillipeds chittered in disapproval, but he let it drop. He’d worked with her long enough to know that was the most he’d get out of her until they were further away.

  Edolit took up position beside Ja’el’s limp form again. After a few meters of stumbling, they found a rhythm that kept them moving steady, despite her deepening fatigue.

  “I didn’t think she’d ever break like this,” Edolit said. She silently cursed herself for not keeping her away from those pain meds. She’d obviously taken far too much and had nodded out, even with the protective nanotech of the Ambra cleaning her system.

  A haunted expression passed over Omaro’s face, his maxillae twitching.

  “They made me watch. Numoh knew it was the only thing they could do that might make me talk,” he said. “He didn’t just take her arm. He had the Varanul take it one sliver at a time. The captain… the bastard enjoyed it. He waved each finger, each slice of her in front of my face and remind me that only I had the power to stop it.”

  Edolit didn’t know what to say. She’d experienced torture before, even some at Numoh’s hands, but nothing remotely as gruesome as that. It seemed as if he was only getting started with her.

  “Problem was, she didn’t pass out until the elbow. So... I don’t blame her for breaking,” he said. The hard edged Scyllarian had never shown much emotion. When he’d first joined the team, she’d thought he was gruff. It had only taken a single mission to learn he was more emotional than she gave him credit for. He kept it to himself because it was hard for other species to read the subtle movements of the maxillae and chitin plates of his face, and he knew the crew didn’t understand. Edolit could hear anguish deep in the wavering pitch of his voice.

  “We’ll get her home, Omaro.”

  “I know. And after that, I’m going to make them pay,” he said. His voice filled with an icy darkness Edolit had never heard in his voice before. The sound sent a chill down her spine. Part of her hoped she wasn’t around to see what he would do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “WELL, HOW MUCH time does the ship need to target the turrets?” Paul said in exasperation.

  Seconds, but they’re sensors are more powerful, they’ll be tearing into our hull by then.

  Paul was convinced he could stop or limit the amount of damage the cruiser could do to his world, somehow. Now that the pick up plan had been decided, the idea to destroy the cruiser’s laser turrets had captured Paul’s attention, and he couldn’t let it go.

  “What about using visual targeting? Staying cloaked but taking out the cannons without the computer?”

  The heavy lasers would be easy to target, they are on rotating blisters to maximize their effective field of fire. The point defense lasers would be too small to spot easily. Plus, you forget they are all protected by the cruiser’s particle shields, Captain Perceptive.

  Paul slumped in his chair, the helplessness pressing on his chest. He felt good about his chances to save Edolit and her team, at least about the things he could control about the plan. There was little more he could do to save his world, though. The cruiser’s weapons wouldn’t cause the mass devastation that the bombs would have, but he knew it could still exact a terrible amount of damage, with little hope of a response from Earth. From orbit, it could leisurely destroy military bases, power grids, communications satellites, and fuel refineries that would bring the planet to a grinding, chaotic halt.

  It might not be the destruction of humanity the Syndicate seemed to want, but it would bring the planet to its knees all the same. All he could do about it was rescue Edolit’s team and get them to the Gate. He hoped they could return with reinforcements in time to save some of his world.

  I’m sorry Paul. You’ve done all you can.

  “Thanks, Zyp. It’s just…,” Paul trailed off. He didn’t know really what to say. What can anyone say to the destruction of an entire world? To losing the last family he had left. To never getting to say goodbye.

  I know. It sucks.

  “Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

  It sucks, a lot? I don’t know, I’m used to being an asshole. Not trying to make someone feel better.

  Paul managed a laugh. “Thanks for trying, at least.” He was surprised to find that he felt a little better. He glanced out at the viewport. Jupiter was passing by now, the great swirling storm raging in its clouds and a myriad of small moons dancing around it. Paul wished he had time to take in these majestic sights in the solar system without the sense of impending doom.

  Perhaps I’ll get to someday if I make it through the next hour, he thought.

  He sighed and closed down the HUD display of the cruiser diagram. He’d cause as much damage as he could from the inside, but he had to get there first.

  “Okay, Zyp, let’s go get your people.”

  Our people. You’re part of the team now.

  Paul smiled. “Okay then. Let’s go get our people.”

  ***

  The cruiser was picking up speed as its mass moved further away from Jupiter’s gravity well. Already moving much faster than the massive battleship, it made Paul feel like he was hurling towards his own doom at an ever increasing speed. His stomach churned, even though the cruiser still looked small against the sea of stars. The vast distances of space still felt unreal to him. It was hard to accept the tiny gray cruiser in the distance, glowing brightly in Jupiter’s light, would dwarf an entire city block by the time he was next to it.

  And he was about to fly into its belly.

  He tried his best to steady his shaking hands as he punched the final navigational commands into the computer. The sudden flip of the ship and controlled burn was going to be more precise than the best pilot in the galaxy could pull off and hit their target. Since he knew he was nowhere in the same league as an Ace pilot, Paul hadn’t even questioned it when Zyp had displayed the commands he needed to put into the computer. He trusted the Ambra’s math and knew it would get him where they needed to be. Paul would have to do the rest once they got there.

  You’ll have to reverse thrusters right before we enter that hanger, or we’ll crash.

  “Got it, don’t crash,” Paul muttered.

  And don’t de-cloak until we’re inside the hanger, otherwise those cannons will fry us.

  “I know, I know,” Paul said. As much as he’d love to know where those starfighters were, he knew the immediate threat of the point defense cannons was more pressing.

  And don’t destroy any hatches to the hanger until we know where they’ll come from.

  “I got it, Zyp! What’s the matter, are you nervous?”

  Aren’t you?

  “Well, yeah, but I’m human. I’m supposed to be nervous before I fly towards a battleship in a tin can!”

  Don’t be so speciesist; of course I get nervous! Any mildly self-aware being would be terrified right now! Especially with a human flying!

  “Oh.” Paul had always assumed the Zyp’s attitude was an aspect of its programming. Some source code meant to make K’tal feel more in tune with it. He’d never even considered that the personality had genuine feelings. “Sorry, Zyp.”

  It’s fine. I didn’t expect a hairless ape to understand all this stuff right away, anyway.

  “Fair enough,” Paul said. It seemed unlikely that the Ambra had showed its vulnerability for his benefit, but it made him feel better. Having a voice in his head should have made him feel crazy, but in reality it made the emptiness of space much less lonely.

  It’s almost time.

  Paul felt anticipation pulse through him. He took a last look at the massive planet, with its beautiful swirling clouds of gas and raging storms. No matter what happened, it comforted him to know he had seen things no human had seen in person. He’d grown up on images of these wonders, but none did them true justice.

  “Okay. I’m ready,” he said. With a loud pop, he cracked h
is knuckles and gingerly placed his hands on the throttle and controls. He tried to relax while he waited for the navigational computer to make the maneuver. He thought about having Zyp give him a countdown, but decided it would only make him more anxious. Instead, he focused on his breath and surrendered; it was all out of his control for now.

  Suddenly, the planet and the sea of stars spun wildly as the nose micro-thrusters engaged and flipped the ship. The inertial dampeners had no time to adjust, and Paul’s vision blurred. His stomach turned under the wild change in force exerted on his body, and he closed his eyes to keep himself from vomiting until the forces calmed. The cruiser hovered in front of him, its drive plume bright against the starry tapestry, still moving away from the Specter. His stomach lurched again as the main thrusters engaged. The cruiser moved away more slowly as the transport’s primary drive overcame the ship’s momentum. Paul felt the deck shudder beneath his feet as conflicting forces fought for dominance.

  For a brief moment, the ship came to a stop as it overcame the momentum of its previous trajectory. With a quick burst of full burn, the Specter surged towards the cruiser. The thrusters shut down almost immediately, the ship’s target speed and trajectory achieved.

  The rest was up to Paul.

  Bright red flashes of light came coursing from the side of the cruiser in small bursts, and streaking towards the space the transport had occupied.

  Damn, those gunners were on high alert! Paul resisted the urge to jerk the controls and pull them away from the laser fire as it streaked past them.

  The lasers were firing in short bursts, each turret firing in different directions.

  They appear to be firing randomly. Their computers have been unable to calculate trajectory for us yet.

  “Yet?!” Paul’s panic made his voice crack like a pubescent boy. The ship was enormous in the viewport, and his sense of its scale was making him rethink a lifetime of choices.

  Prepare for reverse thrust!

  Laser fire saturated the space ahead of the ship, as the gunners calculated the Specter was heading for the hanger bay. A brilliant flash of red streaked past the viewport, and Paul cringed, his eyes closing reflexively. The near-hit left streaks in his vision when he opened them, but he was happy to be alive to see them. The cruiser’s hull and the dull glow of the hanger bay quickly took his attention back.

  Now!

  His heart leaped into his throat as he realized he’d lost focus. Panicked, he jerked the throttle forward to full reverse thrust. The sudden force against the ship made him lurch forward in his seat, but the straps held him tight. The ship slowed as it slipped through the haze of the energy shields surrounding the hanger. Paul still had to jerk the ship to the side to keep from hitting the inner wall of the launch tube. His maneuver kept them from hitting the side head on, but he had overcompensated. The ship scraped against the opposite wall of the tube before he could recover control. Red warning icons flashed across the display, but he didn’t have the chance to check them. His focus was on the squad of surprised Varanul, turning and leveling blasters at the roar of invisible engines bursting into the hanger.

  As the ship slowed, he lined up the first group of baffled Varanul in his crosshairs and squeezed the trigger. Twin streams of laser fire tore into the group, caught on the wrong side of a barricade. The ones that survived the onslaught tumbled to the ground from the sudden explosions around them and scrambled for cover.

  The sight of Varanul being vaporized or torn apart under his first burst of fire shocked Paul with its gory violence. Somehow, destroying bombers and fighters had been easy for him. The destruction he saw was to an inanimate object, and it gave him a sense of separation between himself and the life he had taken. There was no such separation for him now. He was forced to watch the full, destructive power of his lasers as he swept them along the barricade the Varanul hid behind. Orange blood sprayed onto the decking as he vaporized their cover and sent fragments of metal tearing into their bodies. He was glad he couldn’t see what the ship’s drive was doing to their bodies as he passed.

  The gore sickened him until he thought about the hundreds of thousands of people that had been murdered on Earth. Anger tightened his focus. Grimly, he kept firing as he engaged the grav-coils and cut the throttle with his free hand. The ship hovered above the deck, but stopped its forward movement.

  Using micro-thrust, Paul lined up another group of entrenched Varanul pelting his forward shields with small blaster fire and flicked off the cloaking field. The Varanuls’ laser fire became more concentrated as the Specter appeared, no longer a wavering force field hovering above the deck, but a solid target to focus on. A quick burst from the laser cannons sent the fire team scattering. Paul’s targeting skills showed enough improvement from his upgrade to make his mind boggle at the difference.

  Paul had expected Edolit and her team to be pinned down in a firefight in the hanger, waiting for him by this point. I guess I was finally early to something for once, he thought with a flash of satisfaction. He glanced at the red warnings displayed across the screen and then turned away. He wasn’t worried about minor hull scraping at the moment.

  “Zyp, tell we’re here and let me know if I can take out any of these entrances. And warn me if those starfighters are in the neighborhood, wouldja?” He was surprised at how focused he had become now that they were inside the ship.

  Already pinged their location and sent evac code. They are closest to this entrance.

  Paul’s combat display updated with a bright green icon over an entrance to the hanger. With a glance he saw two groups of Varanul around the entrance, and three more clusters covering separate entrances closer to the launch bay on the other side of the ship. Remnants of the other two fire teams that had survived his initial attack joined the entrenched groups in peppering his shields with laser fire. The small weapons had little hope of breaking through his shields, at least in the short term.

  “Okay, I’ll take out these other entrances before they bring in something with more firepower.” Paul swung the ship around to target the entrance opposite him.

  Before he got there, a mass of Varanul carrying large shoulder-mounted cannons and gangly looking aliens in prim uniforms and oversized heads swarmed through the doors and scattered. Paul fired reflexively and cut down two before he blasted apart the doorway in a concentrate barrage of fire. He fired until the ceiling decking collapsed down into the corridor beyond and blocked the entrance. He scanned to see where the new soldiers had ended up, vaguely wondering if this new species was responsible for the proliferation of the black-eyed gray aliens that permeated pop culture. Heavy impacts splashed against the shielding as the remaining Varanul with the heavy cannons began opening fire.

  A gruff voice with a strange, chittering echo chimed loudly from his Ambra. “We’re on the way, kid. Just hold off for a couple minutes. We’ve got injured.”

  “Edolit?” Paul said, confused. He ignored the heavy cannon fire and swept the ship around towards the next entrance, trying to keep from getting swarmed. He was firing constantly now, trying to cause as much damage as possible, burning through bulkheads and vaporizing any equipment he saw.

  “This is Omaro. Edolit’s here. She had to engage her Ambra’s self-destruct. Sounds like things are hairy out there,” the chittering voice said.

  “I’m working on it. Just get here quick, starfighters are inbound,” he shouted. He was tearing apart the flight deck and sending bodies of Varanul and the gray aliens scattering through the air, trying to cause as much chaos as possible. “Zyp, make sure they get to the correct evac point and feed them enemy positions. Omaro, I’ll get the ship as close as I can and clear the way.”

  “Copy that. Just leave some for me. Omaro out.”

  He tried to target another Varanul and missed, burning a hole in the bulkhead behind it. Paul glanced at his shields and saw that the heavier cannons and rifles the new troops were carrying were eating away at his shield strength.

  “Don’
t have much choice,” Paul grumbled, and kept firing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CAPTAIN NUMOH IGNORED the ringing in his auditory canals as he stormed back to the Wildfire’s bridge. Flanked by two Varanul of the bridge guard, he sent the remaining members to reinforce the hanger. At least, the few that had survived Edolit’s explosion. The rest of the search teams were converging on the various routes in between his quarters and the hanger. Captain Numoh shouldn’t have been surprised by the attempted infiltration of his office, but the sudden destruction of his entire bomber wing had been… distracting.

  For a moment, he had been worried Edolit and her overly loyal team would attempt some plan to scuttle the ship, taking the lives of his entire crew with them to their doom. However, the tenacity he had witnessed the Commander exhibit in order to retrieve her Honor Blade and to protect the lives of her people convinced him she meant to commandeer the shuttle in the hanger. The occasional crewman she’d left alive, trapped in quarters along their path, told him she sought to avoid death whenever possible.

  He’d make her regret that weakness.

  He still sent some of his remaining armed troops to lock down or guard the more sensitive areas of the ship, just in case. When he cleaned up this debacle, he would be sure to push for increased security personnel on all ships of the Syndicate fleet, as well as monitoring cameras for all parts of the ships besides the security corridor. He’d already ordered the execution of the crewman who’d been ignoring his duty to watch the security feed when she escaped.

  The bridge door slid open, and he walked through without slowing his pace. The crewmen at their stations looked up at him, their eyes wide with terror.

  Something has happened..., Numoh thought.

  “Commander Keul, report!” He met the gaze of the officer that served as his second in command. The normally hard-edged Gryx looked a sickly gray, and Numoh felt a deep, sinking feeling in the pit of his dual stomachs.