Serengeti cruised past the dead space on Cerberus’s side, drawing the cannons’ fire while Shriek lagged behind her, sizing up the landing bay next to that dead space. The Mosquitoes pouring out.
The swarm thinned quickly, just a trickle escaping now. Shriek saw his opportunity and took it. Sent a message across tight band comms. “Door’s open. We’re goin’ in, boys and girls.”
A push as Shriek fired his maneuvering engines, feathering them in short bursts to move him close to the Citadel and line himself up with the landing bay’s open doors. The Mosquitoes locked onto Shriek’s engine signature immediately. Redirected and raced toward him, dousing him in scans.
Closer in and the drones slowed, drifting in confusion as the Raven’s shielding bounced their scans back, cloaking the stealth ship in the Mosquitos’ own comms. Turning him invisible. Making him look like just another drone.
“Suckers,” Shriek laughed, moving closer to the drones.
“Don’t do it,” Serengeti whispered, thinking he meant to fire.
Tig tensed, picking up her worry, reached for Tilli and clutched her leg-end tight. But Shriek behaved himself, passing serenely through the confused swarm of Mosquitoes. Pointed his nose at the landing bay and slipped silently inside.
Serengeti sighed in relief, pulling away. Leaving that one part of her consciousness with Tig while the rest returned to the bridge of her own ship. “Shriek’s inside.”
Henricksen nodded and lurched forward as a barrage of cannon fire pounded Serengeti’s hull. “Pay attention, Aoki!”
“Aye, sir. Sorry, sir!”
“Samara! Help her out. Evasive maneuvers means Engineering and Nav, not just Engineering doing fancy footwork.”
“Aye, sir.”
No apologies from Samara, just right to work, deploying countermeasures from one panel while running calculations on the other. Charting a path through the cannon fire based on the known patterns of the automated defense system, shunting the results to Aoki who adjusted their course, dodging and weaving while Bosch and the crew in the ancillary batteries blasted away.
They made it through the worst of it, but got caught in the crossfire from two of Cerberus’s batteries pointing in opposite directions—one chasing her, the other targeting Swift who’d unexpectedly changed direction, heading dead-on toward Serengeti.
Swift hauled over at the last second and slipped past them, but the plasma fire chasing him slammed into Serengeti, digging trenches in her newly repaired sides.
“Goddammit, Swift! What the hell was that?” Henricksen grabbed at a panel, steadying himself as Aoki turned sharply. Grunted and slammed into a different panel when a Mosquito exploded against Serengeti’s hull. “I think it’s time we got out of here, Serengeti.”
“No arguments here.”
Henricksen slapped at a panel on his Command Post, opening ship-to-ship comms. “Swift. Sharp. Gather up the boys and get going. Package is delivered. Time we got scarce.”
“Roger,” Swift sent back.
“Roger-dodger,” from Sharp.
A burst of communication and the Ravens cloaked and peeled off, putting their backs to the Citadel as they scrambled for deep space.
“Sir.” Finlay pointed at the display on the front windows, and a single vessel marker showing there. A Raven, based on the data. Moving slower than the others. Uncloaked, a mass of Mosquitoes riding hard on his tail. “Stitch is in trouble.”
“Engines are failing.” Henricksen looked grim. “Bosch!”
“I see him.” Bosch pivoted, redirecting his fire, doing his best to help Stitch out.
The Raven rippled, shield wrapping around him, shimmering for a few seconds before failing again. A flare of fire engulfed his tail, burning brightly before flickering out.
“That’s atmosphere venting.” Finlay stared at the windows, pale face ashen.
“Fuck!” Bosch screamed, pounding away, picking off Mosquitoes left and right. More kept coming, drawn to the failing Raven like moths to a flame. Every last Mosquito in the area descending on Stitch now that the other Ravens had left.
“Bosch!”
“I’m trying!”
He was—he most definitely was—but Bosch’s efforts weren’t quite enough.
Stitch’s engines failed, cobalt light stuttering before shutting down. The Mosquitoes swarmed around him, strafing the Raven from all sides. Comms clicking as Stitch’s voice screamed from the speakers, “Fuck you, you bastards!”
“No,” Henricksen breathed. “No. Don’t!”
The Raven detonated, wiping the entire cloud of Mosquitoes out.
“God dammit!” Henricksen punched the panel hard, leaving a smear of blood behind.
“Why? Why would he do that?” Aoki whispered.
“Had to.” Finlay tore her eyes from the windows. “Dead anyway. No way out.” She snuck a look at Henricksen, bowed her head over her panel, and kept working away.
Aoki just sat there, looking completely lost.
“Aoki.” Quiet voice from Henricksen, cutting right through the noise on the bridge. “Aoki,” he repeated, and then waited until she turned to him—eyes wide, face haunted. “Get us out of here.”
“Stitch…” She trailed off, waving vaguely at the windows.
“I know,” Henricksen said softly. “Nothing we can do about it now.” He looked past her to the windows as the remaining Mosquitoes massed up and turned their way. “Jump, Aoki. Now, please.”
“Aye, sir.” Aoki bowed her head, staring at her panel like she didn’t know what to do. A deep breath and she accessed the ship’s controls, turning Serengeti around, pointing her nose for deep space.
“Countermeasures,” Henricksen ordered.
Serengeti dropped a last load of chaff as Aoki brought the hyperspace drives on-line, spooling them up as the jump clock on the front windows ticked down.
“Rally point,” Henricksen sent.
Acknowledgement came back from Swift, the other Ravens soon after.
“Stitch?” Swift asked.
“Didn’t make it.”
Swift was quiet a moment, swore softly over comms. “This better’ve been worth it, big man.”
Comms cut out, Swift and the rest of the Ravens jumping away.
Henricksen stared at the image of Cerberus, eyes locked onto that dead space on one side. “Yeah. It better,” he said softly.
The clock hit zero and Serengeti jumped, leaving Cerberus behind.
Eighteen
The landing bay on Cerberus seemed endless. Shriek slipped inside the doors and glided through a vast, empty space—metal on metal, ice riming everything, flickering lights providing erratic illumination. Low ceiling hanging above it—barely enough room for Shriek to squeeze through without scraping his belly against the floor. Wide walls—acres of space to either side, stretching deep into the Citadel.
“Well, this certainly is creepy.” Shriek popped on a spotlight, shining it around them. Trained it on a scrap pile—mangled Mosquitoes and broken battle droids all mounded together—and kept it there. “Anything in that shit heap moves, I’m turning it into slag.”
“Be my guest,” Serengeti murmured, not liking this place either. Feeling Tig jitter and fidget, touching at Tilli beside him, finding reassurance in her presence.
Empty decking slipped by beneath them, the landing bay’s doors yawning widely behind. And in between an icy-cold emptiness that seemed to go on for miles and miles.
Shriek glided smoothly, carefully, navigating that low-ceilinged space. Using the design diagram of the Citadel’s layout to guide him to an air-locked door hidden in the darkness far at the back.
Couldn’t actually see it, of course. Not in the all-encompassing darkness, the Citadel unwilling, unable, or just too damn cheap to spark so much as a pin light to push the shadows away. And then suddenly—quite suddenly—the rear wall appeared ahead of them. A massive barrier of composite metal blocking Shriek’s path. He fired his thrusters, breaking hard to slow himself dow
n. Feathered the maneuvering jets to turn himself before settling gently to the floor.
Magnetic locks clicked in, holding Shriek there, belly sucked tight to the composite metal decking as Tig and Tilli unclipped and gathered up their belongings.
“Looks like this is where we get off.” Tig flashed a sickly smile and reached around, pulling his rifle to his chest.
Serengeti touched at his brain, offering what comfort she could as Tig crawled from the corner and touched at a panel on the wall, opening the bridge’s door.
“You gonna be okay on your own? I could send Sampson and Delilah with you,” Shriek offered.
“For the last time,” a voice said, drifting from the darkness. “It’s Cooley, not Delilah.”
A shadow moved—one of four faceless crewmen on the bridge—and a helmeted figure stood.
Cooley, Serengeti assumed. Female from the voice. Impossible to tell much of anything else about her with the bridge engulfed in darkness, that visored helmet covering her head.
“And it’s Samson and Delilah, not Sampson, numb nuts.” Cooley kicked out a hip, hand settling on her waist.
“Sampson and Cooley,” Shriek snorted. “Who ever heard of Sampson and Cooley? Delilah now. That’s classy.”
“Yeah-yeah.” Cooley waved a hand and started climbing over her seat. Paused, looking upward as a low tone of warning bounced around the stealth ship’s bridge pod.
“Whoops. Strike that. Back to your post, Delilah. Mosquitoes are coming back.”
Cooley twisted, looking back at her panel. “I can still go with them. Sampson—”
“No,” Serengeti told her. “Stay with Shriek. Tig and Tilli are all I need.”
A pause, Cooley’s helmeted head tilting, visored face considering the two arachnid-shaped robots with their oversized guns. “You sure?”
“Yes,” Serengeti smiled. “I’m sure. No offense, but one more trooper isn’t going to make all that much difference. Not with the defenses Cerberus has at his disposal. And, honestly? I don’t really want to pick a fight.”
“May not have any choice,” Cooley told her, hand drifting to the gun on her hip.
Serengeti flexed Tig’s legs, offering a shrug. “Maybe. Then again, we’re just a couple of robots. Who would pay any attention to us?” She flashed a smile across Tig’s chromed face, turned him, and gave him a shove.
“I’m going, I’m going!” he complained. “No need to be pushy.”
A glance at Tilli, reaching for her leg, and Tig scuttled off the bridge, stepping into a long corridor that ran the stealth ship’s length.
Relatively simple layout to the Ravens, especially when compared to a Valkyrie, or the other warships in the Fleet. Just three levels inside Shriek, with that central hallway running down each of them, and tiny compartments on either side.
Airlock at the back, close to the stealth ship’s hind end—a single point of entry accessed via the Raven’s one and only cargo hold.
Tilli followed Tig down the corridor, metal legs gripping her rifle tight. Stopped with him at the airlock and stepped in beside him, waiting patiently while the lock depressurized, pumping out heat and air. Exited when a chime sounded and the lock’s panel flashed green, stepping into the ice-cold emptiness of Cerberus’s landing bay.
A glance to either side and the robots moved forward, heading for a pressure door ahead and to one side.
“Forgetting someone?” Shriek’s asked, AI voice echoing inside Tig’s head—direct communication using the robot line.
Serengeti flipped to the rearward-facing camera in Tig’s thorax and spied a tiny metallic shape just exiting the stealth ship’s airlock, leg lifting to make sure the door closed securely behind her before scuttling around and racing toward Tig and Tilli.
“Oona!” Tig spun around, planting his legs against the sides of his body, favoring the tiny, cartoon-covered robot with a very stern, very disapproving frown. “What are you doing here, young lady?”
“Helping!” Oona cried, throwing her metal legs in the air.
Tig heaved a long-suffering sigh. “We’ve been through this Oona. And we agreed you’d stay with Serengeti. Now turn around—”
“I am with Serengeti. She’s up here.” Oona stood on her tip-toes, tapping a leg-end against Tig’s head.
Tig blipped, blinking, collected himself, and started frowning again. “That’s not what I—”
“No time.” Tilli grabbed Tig’s leg, pulling him around. Pointed at the airlock doors as the first of the returning Mosquitoes appeared, blotting out the stars.
“Better get going,” Shriek told them. “Company’s arrived.” The stealth ship shimmered, disappearing into the landing bay’s shadows. “Good luck,” he said, and then the robot channel clicked closed.
Tig looked at him, and at the Mosquitoes gliding through the landing bay door. “What should we—?”
“Go, Tig!” Serengeti ordered. “Go-go-go!”
She shoved at the little robot to get him going, but he kept looking back at the cloaked stealth ship. A second shove still didn’t move him so Serengeti took over, scooting Tig toward the airlock as Tilli grabbed Oona by one leg and pulled her along.
A stop at the pressure door, Tig throwing anxious glances over his shoulder as Tilli reached up, tapping frantically at the security panel. “It’s locked,” she said, face lights flashing. “I don’t have the code!”
“I do! I do!” Oona slipped a leg-end under the edge of the security panel, pushed hard, and popped it from the wall. “Ding-dong!” A smile for Tilli and she extruded a tiny electronic finger, jacked directly into the airlock’s controls.
Curious, Serengeti touched at Oona’s brain, watching as she injected long strings of code into the security system. “Oona. What are you—?”
“Ta-da!” Oona cried, waving her legs. She stepped back as the lock turned green, surged forward when it clicked open, dragging Tilli with her. “Hurry-hurry-hurry,” she said, waving Tig in.
Serengeti ran him through the door, hitting the cycle button along the way. Joined Tilli and Oona at the center and then waited while the airlock ran through its pressurization routine. “Oona,” she said, glancing down at the little robot. “What did you do back there?” A nod to the door behind them, the loosened panel floating in vacuum outside.
“I knock-knocked and the door opened!” Oona said brightly.
“Knock-knocked.”
“Uh-huh!” Oona’s head bounced up and down, legs bending and flexing in time.
Serengeti looked a question at Tilli, but Tilli just shook her chromed head.
A mystery, then. One that would have to wait until later because the lock turned green and the inner door slid open, Tilli grabbing at Oona and holding her still while Tig stepped around them and scanned the hall outside.
Grey corridor out there, every bit as dull and metallic as the landing bay they’d just left. Atmospherics seemed to be working, though—Tig’s sensors picked up breathable air, temperature set to a comfortable 15 degrees Celsius—gravity stuck him to the floor, weighing his metal down.
Lights showed in the ceiling—flickering and fluttering in places, a few blanks spaces, the rest bathed in a harsh, white glow. Tig leaned out of the doorway, looking up and down the hall.
Corridor dead-ended to the left—ran just a few feet before terminating in a thick wall. And right…
Right was scorched and battered panels, warped and dented deck plates, holes showing through to the superstructure beneath. Right was a war zone, that damage a sure sign that something very violent had happened here recently.
“Well, that’s certainly not a good sign,” Tig muttered.
Serengeti shushed him, consulting the diagram of the Citadel’s layout stored in Tig’s brain. Marked their current location, searching out paths from there to a hexagonal shape showing at the Citadel’s center.
Tig butted in, taking a look himself. “Containment pod? That’s where we’re going?”
“Best place to find
an AI if you’re looking for him.”
The one place he had to be since his crystal matrix mind lived there. A long way from here, no matter what path Serengeti chose.
She selected one from a dozen or so on offer—shortest route wasn’t always the quickest, but this one seemed to offer the most direct path—waving to Tilli and Oona as she moved Tig into the hall.
Empty out there—light and heat, the sound of the overheads buzzing angrily, everything else eerily silent. Tig scuttled forward a few steps—nervous, wary, wincing as the flickering lights cast writhing shadows on the way. Ten feet on and that scorched bit of corridor joined with another hallway that branched off, leading deeper into the ship.
“Turn here,” Serengeti told him. “Left down this hallway, and—”
“Freeze!” a bass-toned voice shouted as four very large, very serious- looking troopers stepped from that crossing hallway, rifles pointing at Tig’s face.
So much for sneaking in unnoticed.
“Drop the weapon!” The lead trooper moved a step closer, rifle trained on the shiny space between Tig’s eyes.
Angry-sounding guy. Angry-looking too, at least, based on what Serengeti could see of his face. Smears of grease covered most of it—some kind of camouflage, she supposed, based on the symmetrical pattern, the evenness of the application. A dingy grey uniform clung tight to the trooper’s body—ragged and much-patched, sergeant’s insignia sewn to his collar, tarnished silver nametag pinned to his chest. And on his shoulder, a snarling, three-headed dog patch.
Cerberus’s patch, which made this trooper, and the other three with him, part of the Citadel’s complement of soldiers.
“Surprised there’s anyone left,” Tig said, speaking mind-to-mind to Serengeti. “A decade in deep space…would’ve thought the crew would all be dead by now.” He cringed, realizing how callous that sounded. “Ya know, because of the lack of food and all. Not that I want them to be dead, mind you. I’m sure Henricksen—oof!”
Tig stumbled a step as Tilli bumped into him, scaring the bejesus out of the gun-toting trooper in the process.
Serengati 2: Dark And Stars Page 18
