Ghost Star (Ghost Star Adventures)

by Roger Eschbacher

  Burr chuckled. “And help you did. Thank you.” He swiped his finger across the handheld screen, and the sound of sliding metal penetrated the inner wall of the door. Burr shook his head. “I can’t close the door, but it lets me lock it.”

  Eria picked herself up off the deck as boltfire plinked against the outside of the door. “How long will it hold?”

  “They’ll break through soon enough,” said Burr. “Where is the means of our salvation?”

  Eria pointed to the lone vessel in the hangar, an ungainly vehicle with various attachments connected to long arms folded on top. “Behold, the salvage tug Turba.”

  Galen frowned. “Salvage tug? Our escape vessel is a salvage tug?”

  “Sorry to disappoint Your Lordship, but the fancier ships are better guarded. I chose this one on purpose.” Eria took off her helmet. “It doesn’t have any weapons, but it does have a tripdrive.”

  Iden worked his way around the tug, inspecting it as he went. “Not pretty, but it should work.”

  Burr opened the entrance hatch of the vessel, which hit the hangar floor with a disturbingly loud clang, causing Galen and the others to flinch. “My apologies,” Burr said.

  A loud hissing from the Turba’s retrieval basket caused them all to flinch again. Eria raised her rifer as a lump on the side of the Turba vented more gas and moved. “Stay back, everyone.”

  Galen cocked his head. “Hex!” He rushed forward and pulled away the heavy net that held the bot in place. Eria and Iden joined in, and soon Hex was hovering a few feet above the hangar floor.

  “Greetings, Lord Bray. I trust you are well?”

  “I am, but what are you doing here? We saw you get blown up!”

  “More accurately, you saw the Ghost Star get blown up.”

  Burr ran his hand over Hex’s armor plating. “How?”

  “It takes several seconds for a large plasma battery to power up before the energy bolt is discharged. I detected the charging sequence and was able to secure the memcore and personality mods of Bartrice before the craft itself was destroyed. I played dead, was retrieved by this salvage tug, and was pronounced a shiny piece of junk by its crew, who are now ‘getting some munch.’”

  The hangar was completely silent for a heartbeat. “Wait. Go back. What did you say about Bartrice?” said Galen faintly.

  Hex reached into one of his storage compartments and pulled out the two modules that, together, made up Bartrice. “I said I was able to retrieve the modules before the Ghost Star was destroyed by a plasma bolt.”

  Galen blinked, then leaped forward and gave the bot a hug. “Thank you, Hex. I owe you one. Big time.”

  “I was only doing my duty.”

  Galen pulled back and pointed firmly at the bot. “No. I owe you.”

  Hex whirred and clicked for a moment. ‘Very well, Lord Bray, you owe me.”

  The plinking of boltfire on the emergency door stopped and was replaced by a low-pitched pulsing noise. The metal door glowed a dull red at its center.

  “What’s happening?” asked Trem.

  Burr grimaced. “They’re using a sonitorch to cut through. We must go.”

  Galen and Eria ran inside the Turba, followed by Trem. Eria went into the command pod and powered up the ship while Galen strapped Trem into a bank of crash seats lining a small passageway.

  “This might get scary,” said Galen as he snapped Trem’s restraint belt into place.

  “I’m not afraid because you’re not afraid.”

  Galen did a quick self-check and realized Trem was right. He wasn’t afraid. He was focused. “Good. Hang on.”

  Galen went to the command pod, where he strapped himself in to the pilot’s chair. Burr and the others joined him, taking their places at the various crew stations. Hex hovered outside of the cramped command pod, hardwired into a data jack.

  “Messel, open the outer hangar door,” said Burr.

  Messel entered commands at her station, but nothing happened. “It won’t open . . . and we’re locked out.”

  They sat quietly for a moment before Burr brightened. “Lord Bray, please bring us close to the exterior door of the ship.”

  Galen gently powered up the docking thrusters and eased toward the hangar door, stopping the salvage vessel a short distance away from it.

  Burr slid over to an open command interface, and his fingers moved across its surface. “This shouldn’t be hard to figure out. No, that’s not it. Let’s see. Yes, there we are.”

  The ship lurched. Two of its big salvage arms moved forward and attached themselves to the doorframe. Burr entered a few more commands, and the arms strained briefly before ripping the huge door out of its frame. An even louder klaxon joined the first one as the air in the hangar and a good deal of loose equipment was sucked out into the vacuum of space.

  Eria glanced at Galen. “Still mad about this being a salvage tug?”

  “Not anymore.”

  An energy field quickly sealed the hangar and prevented any more atmosphere or debris from flying out.

  Galen eased the craft forward and slowly pushed through the field as the interior doors of the hangar finally collapsed and several squads of Imps rushed in. The Turba took a few rifer hits to the rear before he gunned the thrusters and broke through the field. “Now for the fun part.” He banked and flew parallel to the hull of the Lingering Death, making it difficult, if not impossible, for the close-range batteries of the big ship to draw a bead on them. “Prepare the ship for tripping. We’re going to have to jump as soon as I can get us clear of the cruiser. Hex, I’ll need you at the ready. If they’re able to hit us with anything, I have a feeling it’s going to do a lot of damage.”

  “Understood.”

  “Here goes.”

  “Stop!” said Burr, looking up from the handheld Eria had given him. “We must go back.”

  Galen looked at Burr like he’d suddenly sprouted another head or two. “What? Why?”

  “The zaf is in that hangar.”

  Galen stared dully ahead. “Of course it is.”

  “What’s a zaf?” said Trem, joining them.

  Iden snorted. “Nothing much, merely a machine that’s going to save a planet from certain destruction.”

  “Oh.”

  After a tense moment, Galen opened his eyes again and grabbed the steerstick, flipping the Turba and guiding it back toward the hangar. “Any idea where the zaf is? I mean exactly.”

  Burr frowned. “No. I didn’t see it near this vessel. Obviously.”

  “Obviously,” grumbled Galen.

  Iden bit his lip. “Maybe it was on the far wall, more toward the interior of the ship?”

  “Maybe. All eyes on the viewplates. We need to find it fast and get out of there even faster,” said Galen. “There’s going to be a lot of boltfire.”

  As they screamed toward the hangar opening, everyone around Galen stiffened.

  “Maybe a little too fast?” said Messel, her voice tense.

  “Gotta push as fast as we can through the energy field. A fast target is harder to hit than a slow one. Hang on!”

  The Turba hit the energy field hard, and Galen threw on the reverse thrusters. After what seemed like an eternity, during which he couldn’t help smiling at the look of shock on the faces of the marines still in the hangar, the ship popped through the field and skidded across the hangar deck, taking out supplies and Imp soldiers as it went.

  “Find it! Find it!” shouted Burr. Boltfire bounced off the Turba’s exterior.

  “There! In front of those crates,” said Iden, pointing at a row of storage containers stacked against the back wall.

  Sitting on a metal pallet was a cone-shaped device Galen guessed was slightly bigger than Hex. “It’s so small.”

  “And yet immensely powerful,” said Burr.

  Eria nodded. “It would have to be to keep an impossibly positioned planet from falling into a ghost star.”

  The Turba shuddered, and Galen glanced out the port viewplate to se
e a cluster of Imps gathered around a tripod-mounted plasma cannon. “Can’t take too many more of those hits. Ready, Burr?”

  Burr took control of the mechanical arms of the Turba, flexing them. “I am.”

  Galen eased the steerstick forward and glided to the zaf.

  Burr lifted the arms and carefully snagged the device, pulling it off the pallet and hugging it tightly to the hull. “Go!”

  Galen spun the salvage tug around and headed for the hangar exit port, taking boltfire the whole way.

  Ahead, the heavy outer door of the Lingering Death was closing at an alarming rate. Messel leaned forward, a concerned look on her face. “The outer door is closing.”

  “I see it,” said Galen. “Everyone really needs to hold on this time.” He jammed the steerstick full forward, and the main thrusters kicked in, turning the atmosphere in the hangar into a roiling cloud of flame. The Turba hit the energy field and burst through the rapidly shrinking opening a half blink before the heavy outer door slammed shut.

  “I’ve never thought I was going to die so many times in a row in my entire life,” said Iden, collapsing against the bulkhead.

  Trem entered from the passageway and hugged Galen around his neck. “Isn’t my brother amazing?”

  “That he is, Lady Trem,” said Burr.

  Galen banked the Turba away from the colossal warship and streaked directly toward a nearby star system, maxing out the engines to just under the speed of light. “Thanks, but we’re not out of this yet.”

  “You’re right. Sensors indicate a large number of arc fighters have launched from the three main vessels,” said Hex. “Main vessels are pursuing and powering up their forward batteries.”

  They entered the outer edge of the nearby star system with the arcships and the Imp battle cruisers close behind. This white dwarf star had a small number of terrestrial planets in close orbit. A lone gas giant orbited the outskirts of the system and was the planet nearest to the salvage vessel. Galen grinned and headed straight for it. “That’ll do.”

  Burr shifted uncomfortably. “You realize there’s a rather large planetary body in our path, don’t you?”

  “Yup.”

  “As long as you’re aware of the danger.”

  The arcships were almost on top of them with their mother ships not far behind.

  “They’re hailing us,” said Iden.

  “Ignore them,” said Galen. “They’re not going to fire until they don’t have any choice. I’m too valuable.”

  Eria snorted. “You’re smarter than you look.”

  “Uh, thanks?”

  The gas giant grew uncomfortably large in all of the vidscreens and was now visible through one of the viewplates.

  Burr scowled. “Although I have complete confidence that you know what you’re doing, Lord Bray, I feel compelled to remind you gas giants are notorious for their strong gravitational pull. Soon we’ll reach the point of no return.”

  “I know.”

  Eria pushed back her seat and stood. “Are you trying to kill us?”

  “No. I’m trying something I watched my father do once or twice.”

  “A smuggler’s move?” said Eria, sitting back down. “You should’ve said so.”

  “Not a lot of time for explaining.”

  “Approaching balance point,” said Messel.

  “Yeah, I feel it,” said Galen. The salvage vessel shuddered violently for a moment, then stopped. Galen pulled back on the steerstick and engaged the thrusters. “I hope they fell for it.”

  “Fell for what?” said Iden.

  The closest arcship squeezed off a round that raced past the port side.

  “They’re losing their patience,” said Iden, nervously glancing out a viewplate.

  “Good. That’s the whole idea.”

  Galen checked the vidscreen. The lead arcship, slightly closer to the gas giant, was shaking violently. A moment later, Galen eased off on the thrusters. Onscreen, the fighter appeared to be drawing closer to the gas giant. “Got one.”

  “It’s being pulled in!” said Iden.

  The arcship was still descending even though its pilot had the nose pointed outward and was firing its engines at full.

  “Watch the others,” grunted Galen.

  Several more arcships were in the same predicament as their leader, and more than half the pursuit squadron was trapped, straining to escape the crushing depths of the turbulent atmosphere. The other half pulled off before they were sucked in, but it was too late for one of the Moon-class cruisers. Despite possessing more powerful engines than the arcships, the huge mass of the vessel made escape impossible once it pushed past the gravitational balance point. Galen watched in amazement as the gas giant wadded up the cruiser like a piece of paper. The ship’s end came when the core drive imploded.

  “That was some bad piloting,” said Eria, her voice full of amazement. “Not you, them.”

  Galen shook his head in disgust. “Nell pilots are idiots. Nolo discovered they could get so focused on killing you, they’d totally miss something trying to kill them.”

  “Was that Mohk’s ship?” said Burr, his voice tense.

  Messel consulted her screens. “No, unfortunately. The pursuit squadron is regrouping.”

  “We’ve bought some time,” said Eria. “Got any more of Nolo’s tricks handy?”

  Galen shook his head. “He’d probably try a gravity sling, but I’m not sure I could pull one of those off without Bartrice’s help.”

  “I could do gravity slings in my sleep. Leave it to me,” said Eria before adding, “Captain.”

  Galen climbed out of the command chair. “Go ahead. Engage the tripdrive as soon as we get far enough away from the planet. We’ve got to get to Dob before the Imps do and set up some kind of defense. I will not let my people be destroyed.”

  Galen ran his fingers through his hair. He’d surprised himself by saying “my people,” but it was a pleasant surprise, one that felt perfectly natural coming from his lips.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Thanks to Eria executing a textbook gravity sling, the act of using the pull of a large planetary body to dramatically increase a space vessel’s speed, the Turba got them to Dob well ahead of the Imp task force. Even with that advantage, Galen knew he’d be slowtiming the tube with the equivalent of a farm vehicle. He would dearly miss the Ghost Star, but at least Hex had been able to escape with Bartrice’s memcore and personality mods. That shift in thinking surprised him. He’d gone from not wanting anything to do with Bartrice’s AI personality to relief that she’d survived the destruction of the Ghost Star. Maybe almost losing the program, maybe almost losing his mother for the second time, caused the change.

  He had his crew retract every appendage possible on the exterior of the craft. It had been hard enough to fly the Ghost Star in and out of the deadly plasma tube, but flying this vessel, with its gangly mechanical arms and protruding attachments, would be much harder.

  “Prepare for descent,” said Galen. “This trip should be even more fun than the last one.”

  **

  The trip to the planet’s surface turned out to be a lot less “fun” than Galen thought it would be. In other words, it went surprisingly well. The salvage vessel lost one of its big arms and a few other protuberances, like the communications array and something that resembled a spiked hammer, but it was otherwise undamaged. Galen set the craft down on the outskirts of Olor, and it was immediately surrounded by a cluster of armed artisans.

  “Sorry we didn’t call ahead,” said Galen to a sea of relieved Ruam faces. “We lost the com array almost as soon as we entered the tube.”

  The zaf was off-loaded, and Burr and Iden took it to the building that housed its failing predecessor.

  At a hastily called meeting of Dob’s authorities, it was agreed the majority of the population would be evacuated from the surface and sent to whatever caverns and underground storage facilities were available near each settlement.

  “If
there’s one good thing about all of this, it’s that most of what they send down the tube will be destroyed. It’s a matter of protecting our people against the few bombs that get through,” said Messel.

  “Get through?” asked the mayor, his eyes wide. “You mean some will get through?”

  Messel pursed her lips. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “They have time and numbers on their side,” said Eria, leaning back in her chair. “Mohk won’t give up until he has taken Dob.”

  “Okay then,” said Galen, rubbing his hands together. “All we have to do is hold out until every smart bomb in the Nell Imperium is used up. Easy enough, right?”

  The ground shook violently. The shaking went on for quite some time, and even the normally unflappable Ruam showed some worry. Then, as quickly as the shaking started, it stopped.

  Burr’s voice crackled over the com. “Sorry. We had to take the old zaf offline before switching to the replacement. We ran some diagnostics before swapping it in and, surprise of surprises, it still works!”

  “Well done, Burr!” said Galen.

  “Thank you, Lord Bray. If possible, would you and Lady Eria mind coming to my workshop for a word?”

  “Yes, we’re almost finished here. We’ll be by shortly.”

  They arrived at the lab to find Burr and Iden standing near two large, tarped objects. One of the objects was low and longer than an arcship, while the other was squarish and slightly taller than a man.

  Burr bowed. “We are essentially blind down here on the surface. Every vessel in the Imperium fleet could be waiting outside the tube, and we wouldn’t know it. We need to be informed. We need some eyes on our enemy.”

  Galen couldn’t deny the truth in that. “What do you propose?”

  Burr pulled the tarp off the taller of the two objects, revealing a boxy spacecraft.

  “An escape pod?” said Eria. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I propose to take it aloft with as much surveillance equipment as we can scrounge and be our eyes and ears. There is an area we call interspace, a zone between Dob’s upper atmosphere and the tube’s opening, where properly calibrated equipment can read what is happening in the tube and outside it as far as the device’s range extends. Since we lacked any nobility to make the journey out, it was how we kept an eye on the space around Mael immediately after the collapse.”