by Jay Allan
His head was unmoving, trying to make out the deck in the shadowy illumination. He could see dark spots all around, chunks of debris covering virtually every meter of the deck. He had to find someplace to put his ship down, but there was nothing.
No…wait…
His eyes caught a small section of deck that looked open. It was large enough for all five ships…barely. He reached out and flipped a switch to activate his beacon, directing his pilots to follow him.
He tapped the positioning thrusters, bringing his ship toward the flat area and lowering it slightly. It was fine work, as precise and delicate as anything he’d ever done in his fighter. There was no room for error…none. And he swore to himself that he would make none.
His hands were covered in sweat. His whole body was, and it took all he had to hold himself steady, to move slowly, steadily toward the spot he’d chosen. He was coming in on the extreme end of the open space, leaving as much room as possible for the other pilots.
Assuming they get past the doors…
He was on target, everything under control. He had made it. He was going to land without…
Suddenly, Repulse shook hard. The flagship had taken a hit, Stockton realized immediately, just as he was bringing his ship down toward the deck.
From his perspective, the deck and walls of the bay jerked wildly. He felt a coldness everywhere in his body, a panic he somehow managed to keep under control, even as his hands moved on the controls, seemingly on their own. It was pure reflex, raw instinct…and it saved his life.
His fighter slammed down on the deck, hard…but not too hard. It took him a few seconds to realize he had made it, and another few before he understood that he’d managed to come down without causing substantial damage to the bay…or blocking the space he’d picked out for the four ships following him in.
He sat where he was. The bay was in vacuum, and he couldn’t leave the ship until the flight crew came to get him with a vac suit. He could hear hissing all around him as his ship lost the last of its air through the small rents the hard landing had torn into its battered hull…but he flipped on the emergency system, and the small escape cocoon, the capsule that would have kept him alive in space for some hours if he’d ditched, enveloped him. Repulse couldn’t launch rescue ships, but Stockton didn’t have doubt the deck crews would get to him quickly in the middle of the bay.
Repulse shook again, even harder than the last time. Yet another hit.
They’ll get to me, all of us…as long as Repulse is still here.
* * *
“What’s going on?” Sara Eaton had intended the words as a silent thought, but they came out of her mouth anyway. The scanners all showed the same thing. The enemy fleet was disengaging and pulling away from what remained of her fleet at massive acceleration rates. It looked very much like a retreat, save for two facts. First, the enemy had no reason to break off. They were on the verge of total victory.
And second, they weren’t moving back the way they had come. They were flying past her ships, heading toward the inner primary.
She felt relief…for a few seconds. Repulse had been outmatched, bracketed by another two enemy battleships and under an intense barrage, one she knew her vessel couldn’t long survive. And the rest of the fleet was in no less dire a situation. Her people had fought hard, even brilliantly, and she was deeply proud of them all…but the end had been near. Then the enemy just broke off, ceased their relentless attacks and blasted away at better than 80g.
The relief faded quickly, driven off by a cold realization. There was only one explanation for the enemy’s action. They had concluded that the fleet had stopped and offered battle for the very reason it had. Because the transit points ahead led not into the depths of unexplored space, but back to the very home worlds the fleet had fled into the darkness to protect.
Eaton’s body went tense, the last vestiges of the satisfaction she’d felt when Stockton and all four of his comrades had successfully landed gone in an instant. As Eaton considered the implications of the enemy’s actions further, she realized she didn’t know how to respond.
None of her ships could match the enemy’s acceleration. A fighter strike might have a chance of reaching the enemy ships before they got too far out of range, but only if she launched one now. And most of her fighters were still out in space, their fuel and energy reserves almost exhausted. The only fighters in launch bays were the ones that had just landed on Repulse, and they were utterly depleted as well, not to mention crammed into half-functional bays. It would be hours before her people could get even a few squadrons launched, if they could at all, and that would be far too late.
She took a deep breath, trying to resist the despair threatening to take her. The spacers of her fleet had fought hard, and many had died…and now, it looked like all of that had been for nothing. The enemy would transit through the points orbiting the primary, and then they would be close—dangerously close—to finding the Confederation. Worse, perhaps, the chance of discovering meaningful clues to direct them the rest of the wa, would be very high. A lone smuggler’s ship or some kind of survey vessel exploring the closest in-systems of the Badlands was all it would take to lead the enemy to Dannith or to one of the other frontier worlds.
Then darkness would descend on the Confederation.
Eaton drew her strength from a single hope, that Tyler Barron had used the short time she’d bought him well, that he’d rallied the fleet, begun the process of recommissioning warships from the reserves, put the whole Confederation on high alert.
Because if he hadn’t…the future would be a grim one.
Chapter Thirty-One
Troyus Spaceport
Troyus City, Planet Megara, Olyus III
Year 316 AC
“Andi…we have to go. We’re out of time.” Vig Merrick’s voice was soft, filled with the pain he felt at his friend’s misery. Andi knew that Vig understood, perhaps more than anyone, just how important Tyler Barron was to her…and he knew what it would do to her to launch Pegasus without him, to leave him behind, to almost certain recapture. Or worse.
She turned toward him, her face wet from the sobbing she’d hidden from the others. “If we leave him here, he doesn’t have a chance. They’ll recapture him, add an escape attempt to his charges…if they don’t just take the opportunity to get rid of him. ‘Shot while trying to escape’ is one of the oldest tricks in the book.” Andi knew very well that something was going on in the Confederation’s capital, something dark and dangerous…and she had to believe whoever had instigated Barron’s arrest would be just as glad to be rid of the famous officer for good. “If I leave him, I could be killing him.”
Vig just looked back at her, silent for a moment. Then he said, “I’ve got the ship ready to go, Andi…but it can’t be long before the spaceport goes on alert and we’re stuck down here. I think we can get to orbit without an assist from ground-based systems, but if they want to ground us, you know they can do it easily enough.” He paused.
She knew he wanted to urge her to take off again, but he didn’t say anything. She looked back across the spaceport. Vig was right. They were almost out of time, if they weren’t already. As hard as it was for her to imagine, she knew Barron could be dead already, killed in a botched rescue attempt. The thought cut through her like a dull blade, but she’d always been a realist…and she knew if Barron himself could speak to her then, he would have told her to go.
She sighed softly. “Okay, Vig, go back and get the launch system ready.” She looked back across the spaceport, hoping against hope to see something, for some kind of miracle. But there was nothing.
Vig nodded, and he turned and raced up the ramp, into Pegasus. The others were all aboard already. Only Andi had remained, looking out in the distance through her tears. She turned around and followed her first officer. She paused at the top of the ramp, turning back and taking one last look before her hand moved toward the controls…and pressed the button to close up her ship.
>
There was no more time to cling to hope. They had to go.
* * *
Barron bounced around in the transport, slamming hard into the wall as the vehicle raced along the road leading to the spaceport. It was past dawn now, and the light was coming up over the horizon, stripping the convoy of stolen vehicles of what remained of the cover of night.
Barron hadn’t been surprised when no fewer than four of Rogan’s Marines had answered his call, confessing to some level of knowledge of stealing transports. The Marines recruited from some of the poorest and toughest worlds in the Confederation, and more than a few of its recruits joined up to escape lives of poverty and crime. Or the reach of local law enforcement.
His makeshift gang of thieves had managed to grab three large transports from the garage and get them started. Barron knew they all had antitheft systems, but he was hoping the jamming would shut them down and give his people a headstart before they were pursued. Or, at least, pursued by another set of enforcement personnel besides the units from the prison that were undoubtedly searching for them even now.
And the spaceport isn’t exactly the hardest destination to figure out for when chasing an escaped prisoner…
“What kind of ship do we have waiting? One of Dauntless’s big shuttles?” Barron was trying to keep his mind out of the abyss, but he couldn’t see how a shuttle was going to escape when there would almost certainly be some kind of pursuit before they reached orbit. The small vessels were good for transporting personnel and supplies, but no one would call one of them fast or maneuverable.
“No, sir…” Rogan sounded hesitant to answer, and he paused for a few seconds before continuing. “Pegasus is waiting for us, Admiral.” Another few seconds of silence. “Assuming we get there in time.”
Barron was both excited and horrified. He was anxious to see Andi, more than he’d even imagined in the almost two years since he’d last seen her…but he hated the idea of her being involved in any of what was going on, putting herself at such grave risk. She’d finally achieved what she’d pursued her whole life, and the idea of her losing it all and ending up on some penal colony was too much for him to imagine.
The transport shook hard again as the driver—not one of the Marines with experience stealing vehicles, but another who’d confessed to a shady past—pushed it to the limit. Once Barron had asked about experience stealing vehicles, the floodgates had opened…and Corporal Sandor Donovan had admitted to serving as the getaway driver for one of the infamous local gangs on the rugged world of Toranol. His candor had landed him in the driver’s seat of the largest of the transports, and given him the task of getting Barron to the spaceport.
“We’re almost there, sir…but I think we picked up a tail.” The Marine’s voice was rough, raspy. He sounded almost as though he had reverted back to his days as a gang member.
Barron looked down at the small display screen. The scanners were still more or less useless, but he switched to the rear camera. There they were. Four or five heavy transports, lightly armored…and definitely military. He’d just begun to wonder if they were armed when he saw a small turret on top of the lead vehicle. A few seconds later, his eyes caught a flash of light, and he heard an explosion off to the side.
“Faster, Donovan.” Barron said the words without knowing if it was even possible. He’d been banged all around in the transport’s main cabin as the Marine drove just like Barron imagined a getaway driver would. But now they needed even more speed. And evasive maneuvers, too. If that gun scored a hit, the chase would be over. Even if they all survived the inevitable impact from a crash, their pursuers would be on them before they could even think of climbing out and running.
Or fighting back.
The transport’s power plant whined loudly as Donovan called for more energy, squeezing every extra kph he could get. Barron reached down and grabbed his rifle, just as Rogan did the same. He doubted they would have much chance to fight their way out, but it was instinct as much as anything else.
“We’re at the spaceport, sir.” Donovan’s voice was surprisingly calm, considering the Marine was driving the transport to a near overload and dodging incoming fire while he was doing it.
Barron felt a small burst of hope that they were almost there…until he realized he was leading the pursuers right to Pegasus.
To Andi.
* * *
“All right…everybody, make sure you’re buckled in. It’s likely to be a rough ride before we get there.” Andi was morose, as depressed as she had ever been. She was driving herself forward by pure stubbornness, by a sense of duty to Holsten, and by the hope, however fleeting, that the intelligence chief—ex intelligence chief—could somehow deal with whatever was happening…and maybe even save Tyler.
If he’s even still alive…
She reached down, putting her fingers against the engine activation switch.
But before she pushed it, she turned one last time to look at the screen, at the feed from Pegasus’s exterior security cameras. Then she froze.
There were three vehicles racing across the spaceport’s tarmac, heading straight for her ship. She felt herself filled with surprise, and then a new hope. It was Tyler. It had to be.
Her joy lasted only a few seconds, until she saw an explosion next to the lead transport. Chunks of blasted concrete flew through the air…and a second later, she saw the vehicles following Barron’s. Six of them, all armored vehicles, firing from top-mounted guns.
And, no doubt, full of armed soldiers…
“Vig, take the controls.” She snapped off the command to her friend as she unhooked her harness and raced off the bridge, climbing up the small ladder to the cockpit surrounding the controls for Pegasus’s main turret. Her ship wasn’t heavily armed, not by the standards of war vessels—and Megara’s atmosphere would quickly attenuate what strength the laser bolts did have. But such thoughts generally centered on spaceships and other large targets. At less than one thousand meters, Pegasus’s guns would obliterate a transport, even an armored military one—atmosphere or no.
She slid into the chair, pulling on the headset and goggles and running her hand across the control panel, flipping on the row of switches. She reached out and grabbed the controls, moving her arms to position the gun. The scanners were still down, but the goggles gave her a view in any direction, assembled from data fed in from the external cameras.
She brought the sights toward the lead transport, the one firing at Barron’s convoy. She didn’t like the idea of frying a truckload full of Confederation troops, but she’d be damned if she’d let them kill Tyler…or take him back to prison. She aimed and fired once, a warning shot less than three meters in front of the transport.
But the vehicle kept coming, racing across the open space, as Barron’s transports slowed to a stop in front of Pegasus.
The slow-moving—soon to be still—trucks were sitting ducks. She didn’t have a choice. She had to show Barron’s pursuers she meant business.
That she would kill to stop them.
She aimed her second shot, bringing the sights in line with the front of the first vehicle. She hesitated, for a second at most, one last blast of guilt…and then she pressed the firing stud.
The laser flared out in a blinding flash, the normally invisible pulse lit by the dust and early morning fog, even in the brightening dawn sky. She couldn’t see it very well from inside her ship, but she knew what it looked like. She was staring right at her target when the laser ripped through the forward armor. Perhaps five seconds later, the transport skidded to the side and flipped over, leaving a trail of flames behind it.
She brought the gun around, locking on the second vehicle, all the while hoping the fate of the lead transport would send the others into retreat. For a few seconds, the trucks still moved forward, and her finger tightened again. But then they skidded to a near stop and turned around, fleeing from Pegasus in considerable disorder.
Andi sighed, her relief almost palpable. It
was overlaid by guilt for what she’d done already, and she wondered how many she’d killed. But she was deeply grateful she hadn’t had to add to that toll.
She stayed where she was for a few seconds more, until she was sure the vehicles were in wholesale retreat. Then she jumped up and slid down the ladder, racing toward the cargo bay and shouting for Vig to open the rear doors again.
She hadn’t seen Tyler yet, and she had no way to be sure he was in one of those transports, that he’d gotten out alive. But, somehow, she knew he was, with a certainty she couldn’t explain.
She knew the trip to orbit would be difficult and dangerous, that she might be reunited with Tyler only for both of them to die in moments. But she didn’t think about that, not for an instant. All she wanted was to get him on board, to see him again, to confirm her belief that he was still alive.
* * *
Barron leapt out of the vehicle, turning as soon as he hit the pavement and shouting for the Marines to hurry. They’d come a long way, and Pegasus’s laser had pushed back their pursuers, but he knew there would be reinforcements arriving any second. Probably heavier vehicles with stronger armament…guns powerful enough to threaten Pegasus herself. He felt nearly unrestrained joy at the sight of Andi’s ship, and dread as well at her presence, but he knew he didn’t have time for any of that.
He didn’t have time for anything.
“Let’s go…move it!” he bellowed with his harshest command tone, waving his arms as he yelled. Even as he stood there, he heard the sounds of boots on metal, the Marines streaming up Pegasus’s ramp and into the vessel’s cargo bay.
“Admiral, you have to go!” It was Bryan Rogan, standing right next to him, his hand reaching out, grabbing Barron’s arm. “You have to board, sir.”
