04 Dark Space

by Jasper T. Scott

  “Yes, sir,” Gina replied.

  “No one is flying solo out there. Are there any other questions, something related to the mission perha—”

  The P.A. system crackled to life, interrupting him before he could finish. “Guardians, you are cleared to launch. Proceed to the hangar bay with all possible speed.”

  Atton clapped his hands together. “You heard ‘em. Ruh-kah!” With that, he turned and ran down the corridor leading away from the briefing room. He heard booted feet pounding down the corridor after him. As soon as he reached the double doors at the end, he waved his wrist over the scanner, and they parted with a swish. Beyond the doors, Nova Fighters sat in gleaming rows on the hangar deck. Atton ran down those rows, heading for the fighter nearest to the pair of glowing red launch tubes at the far end of the hangar. To his right lay the yawning opening of the hangar bay—stars and space tinted liquid blue by the Intrepid’s static shields.

  As soon as Atton reached his Nova, he leapt up onto the wing and swiped his wrist over the control panel beside the cockpit. The transpiranium canopy rose with a hiss of pneumatics, and he slipped inside. He slapped the button to close the canopy before it had even finished opening, and then he hit the fighter’s ignition switch. The Nova’s reactor whirred to life and the ship began to hum and vibrate all around him. Glowing holo displays and buttons came to life and his fighter’s AI greeted him—“Welcome back, Commander.”

  “Sara, run a quick preflight and set IMS to 95%,” Atton said as he reached behind his flight chair for his helmet. He pulled it on and sealed the clasps at his neck. A green icon on the helmet’s HUD appeared in his periphery, indicating a good seal, although his suit would only pressurize in the event that the cockpit depressurized.

  “All systems green,” Sara said.

  “Good.” Atton touched a key on his comm board and selected the channel reserved for his wing pair. “Ready, Tuner?” he asked, using Gina’s call sign.

  “Punch it.”

  Atton nodded. Speaking to his AI, he said, “Initiate the launch sequence.”

  “Initiating . . .”

  The Nova rose swiftly off the deck and swiveled in place. As soon as it turned to face the pair of glowing red portals in the back of the hangar, the fighter’s thrusters roared, and Atton was pinned to his seat. The launch tubes grew rapidly larger, still somehow seeming too small for his fighter. Atton winced as the Nova rocketed inside the rightmost of the two. Bright rings of light raced by the cockpit, faster and faster until just a split second later he was catapulted into the starry blackness of space.

  A quick look at the grid showed Gina roaring out right behind him. The Guardians came out in a steady stream, one after another, and then the Renegades began streaming out the launch tube beside theirs.

  Atton stomped on the left rudder pedal to bring his fighter around in a tight arc which would set him on the same path as the Intrepid. The blinding orange glow of the cruiser’s engines hove into view, and Atton grinned. It was good to be back in the cockpit. He was curious to find out what had the Avilonians so scared, but so far the details were need to know. All Atton and the other pilots really needed to know was that the Avilonian fleet had been remotely disabled, and now they were heading into a potentially hostile environment with an unknown threat. The threat was described as probably local but Atton wasn’t convinced. Maybe the Sythians had found Avilon already?

  That wasn’t a happy thought.

  “Form up, Guardians,” Atton said as soon as everyone had launched. “It’s time to see what has these people so spooked.”

  * * *

  High Lord Shondar gawked at the pitiful number of ships defending the Avilonians’ world. “That is it?” he warbled aloud. “This is no fleet.” There were at most fifty capital ships in the immediate area, and although many of them were giant warships, Shondar’s own fleet of over 100 capital-class vessels was arguably much stronger. “Have the drivers launch our warships,” he commanded. “They are to remain cloaked until they surround the enemy fleet. Once they are in position they are to await my orders.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  Meanwhile, Shondar sent a telepathic update to Lord Kaon in Dark Space. The last time Kaon had heard from him there had been bad news. The Gasha and her hundred plus warships had been mysteriously stranded in the middle of a strong gravity field. Now Shondar’s news was all good. They were free, and they had reached Avilon. Even better still—the Avilonians did not appear to be as strong as initially reported. Kaon responded to that news with eagerness and relief. He also gave Shondar an update. The rest of the lords had arrived in Dark Space, and now their ships were brimming with human slaves. It would not be long before Kaon came to join Shondar in the glory of their final conquest.

  Shondar finished speaking with Kaon and settled back in his command chair to watch the battle unfold. He called up live footage from the bridge decks of the cruisers which were closest to the enemy fleet, and then he magnified that view so he could see the enemy ships with his own eyes. Unlike most human warships that Shondar had seen, which were radiant with bright lights, these were dark. Not even a single viewport shone with light. Absent even were the glowing blue maws of hangar bays. If these ships had hangars, they didn’t shield the openings.

  Shondar bared his teeth and his brow wrinkled in confusion. Is the enemy already dead? he wondered. “What do sensors say of our enemy?”

  “No radiation of any kind. They are dark, My Lord.”

  “Without power?”

  “Or shielded with a cloak to prevent us detecting them.”

  “Then why not shield themselves from the visible spectrum? No, that is not it.”

  “My Lord! There is movement . . .”

  “I see it,” Shondar replied, watching the map as a stream of small contacts appeared.

  “These are a known type—Nova Fighters. They are not Avilonian . . .”

  “No, they are not.”

  “Then . . . ? Are we in the wrong place?”

  “The other ship types are not known to us, therefore, it is likely that these other humans are visiting,” the operator at the sensor control station replied.

  “Interesting. Have a wing of our fighters intercept this new enemy.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  Shondar watched his fleet surround the Avilonians, washing over them like a tidal wave. The Avilonian ships made no move to escape, nor did they show any signs of life. Shondar didn’t expect them to react—his fleet was cloaked and undetectable. When the enemy was completely surrounded, and all 1468 Shell Fighters had deployed in vast, buzzing clouds, Shondar bared his teeth once more. “De-cloak and engage the enemy. Let us kill as many of these shakars as we can!”

  Chapter 25

  “Let’s do a fly by on our way to the planet,” Atton said as he guided his fighter toward the densest cluster of disabled Avilonian ships. “Line Abreast formation. We’re going to fly over top.”

  “Roger that,” Guardian Three commed back.

  Click. Click, came the affirmative responses from two other pilots.

  “I’ve got just 57 warships on the grid . . .” Guardian Five—Razor—said. “Anyone else confirm that? Seems like too few for a sector supposedly populated by trillions.”

  “The rest might be out of sensor range,” Atton replied, “But even if that’s the extent of their home fleet, some of those cruisers are over ten klicks long. I’d say what they lack in numbers they make up in other ways.”

  “Lead . . . are you suggesting that size matters?” Gina replied.

  Snickering followed that remark and Atton frowned. “Cut the chatter, Guardians.” Shaking his head, he touched a point on the grid which was above the enemy fleet and more or less in the center of their formation. A green diamond appeared on the grid. That would be the nav point for their fly by. It was 1,199 klicks out. Atton’s velocity was just over 2.5 klicks per second, but with an acceleration of 145 KAPS that speed was rising fast. A number below the icon
he’d place on the grid gave an ETA in minutes and seconds—1:52.

  They’d have to slow down to do a proper fly by, but Atton figured a quick glance would be good enough. Their orders were to recon the planet, not the mysteriously derelict fleet.

  The comms crackled with more chatter—this time from Guardian Six, otherwise known as Ogles. “So, if these people are the Immortals, I guess that solves the old debate,” he said.

  Atton frowned and keyed his own comm system. “What debate is that, Six?”

  “The religious one—you know, all that existential krak. The Immortals aren’t real, so that means no Etheria and no Etherus—no gods and no God. We ended up being our own gods. Funny that—always knew I was almighty.”

  “You’re an ignorant skriff, Ogles,” Ceyla replied.

  “Hoi, stow that, Four!” Atton said. “No personal attacks, you copy?”

  Click.

  Atton couldn’t blame Ceyla for getting upset. Ogles was belittling and attacking her faith, which must have felt like a personal attack. Seeing an opportunity to redeem himself for his own prior comments about her beliefs, Atton added, “And, Og?”

  “Sup, SC?”

  “You might want to brush up on logic when we get back on deck. The fact that there are human immortals living here in Avilon does not mean that they are the same ones Etherians believe in. Maybe the Avilonians fixated on the idea of eternal life because of their belief in souls. Then, once they found a way to attain immortality in this existence, they outgrew the need to believe in life after death. Regardless, none of that has any bearing on whether or not there actually is an afterlife.”

  “Well maybe it don’t disprove it, SC, but I don’t see why anyone would want to find out whether there’s a life after death if they didn’t have to. Give me the choice between living forever in this life and living forever in some other one that might not even exist, and I’ll take this one thank you very much. Immortals forgive me!” he wailed in mock repentance. “I just got too much to live for down here.”

  “Like what?” Gina challenged. “Admiring your collection of holo girls? I might believe you if you had a life, Ogles.”

  “Hoi, I don’t make fun of your hobbies.”

  “That’s because my hobbies aren’t stupid.”

  “All right, that’s enough!” Atton said, eyeing the ETA to the nav point—15 seconds. “We have a mission to perform. I don’t want to hear any more personal comments on this channel.”

  “Copy that,” Ogles said.

  Click, Ceyla added.

  “We’re coming up on the Avilonian fleet . . . make sure you swivel your holocorders to get a good look as we fly past.”

  “I doubt we’ll see anything at this speed,” Guardian Three put in.

  “Doesn’t matter. Vidcorders will catch it all the same. Control can always magnify and slow down the footage for analysis.”

  “SC . . . my scopes are picking up some—skrissrssss . . .”

  Ogles’ reply cut off suddenly, and a bright flash of light blossomed off Atton’s port side, followed by the distant boom of a simulated explosion. His head jerked toward the light in time to see the tail end of an explosion. And like that, Ogles was off to settle the debate himself and find out firsthand about all that existential krak.

  “What the frek—” Gina said. She was interrupted by another explosion which blossomed off to starboard, taking Guardian Three this time.

  “Evasive action!” Atton yelled, already yanking up on his fight stick. Another explosion boomed right beneath him and his nova rocked violently, his shields hissing with shrapnel.

  “Mines!” someone screamed.

  “I’ve got nothing on sensors . . .” Ceyla added.

  Then a stream of familiar lavender-hued lasers began stuttering by Atton’s cockpit, and the enemy contact siren screeched out a warning as Sythians suddenly appeared all over the grid.

  “Skull faces!” Gina roared.

  “Frek it,” Atton muttered, his eyes on the grid as hundreds of red enemy blips began appearing all around them.

  “There’s a whole fleet of them!” Gina went on.

  “I’ve got one on me!” Ceyla screamed over the comms.

  “Keep your acceleration up and set shields to double aft,” Atton said. “We’ll pass out of range in a minute. We’re going too fast for them to catch up.”

  Click.

  Atton kept up a random set of maneuvers to confuse the aim of the pair of Shell Fighters on his own six o’clock. Most of their shots went wide. “Sara,” Atton began, speaking to his AI. “Set comms to the command channel and establish a connection.”

  “Connection established . . .” the AI replied a moment later.

  The lasers flashing by his cockpit ceased, and a quick look at the grid showed the pursuing enemy fighters had dropped out of range. Even though they had no hope of catching up, they made no move to break off their pursuit. “Control,” Atton began, “this is Guardian Leader. We have encountered a Sythian Fleet and we’ve picked up pursuit from enemy fighters. They’re following us to the planet. Please advise.”

  The comm crackled with a reply. “We see them, Guardians. Do not engage. Your orders remain the same. Once you drop below the cloud layer, head for the Zenith Tower, which is marked on your navs, and report on the situation there. We’re sending ground units to that location. As soon as they arrive, you will provide air support and keep them safe.”

  “Roger that,” Atton replied, wondering why he hadn’t heard about the Zenith Tower earlier. He decided that mission control must be bogged down with all the recent developments. Atton eyed the Avilonian fleet as he flew over top of it. Rolling his Nova to put that fleet ‘above’ rather than ‘below’ him, he set visual auto scaling to 400% in order to watch the Avilonian fleet in greater detail as he streaked by. The first thing he noticed at that level of zoom was that there were no lights shining out from those ships’ viewports.

  As he flew by one of the larger cruisers, space erupted with dozens of dazzling points of bright purple light—Sythian Pirakla Missiles. They swarmed out the side of a distant Sythian cruiser and crashed into the Avilonian fleet with explosive force, hitting two different ships at once and cutting ragged black holes in their hulls. The Avilonians didn’t even try to evade, but Atton knew that was because they couldn’t.

  Suddenly, his nav screamed out with a collision warning, and Atton noticed the Avilonian cruiser rushing toward him. He pulled up at the last second, roaring out close over the hull of that ship. Then a volley of Pirakla missiles hit right in front of him. Debris burst into his flight path, followed by brief jets of flame which billowed out into space, fed by escaping air from the cruiser. One of those jets engulfed Atton’s Nova and the debris pelted his shields with an angry hiss. Then something heavy hit his fighter with a thunk and sent him spinning away.

  “Shields critical,” the AI warned.

  “Frek!” Atton screamed as he battled with his flight stick to get back on his previous heading. “Heads-up, Guardians! Those cruisers are flying apart! Keep your distance.”

  “Roger that . . .” Gina said, her voice soft with horror.

  “They’re being slaughtered,” Ceyla added.

  Dead ahead there were more than a dozen Avilonian ships, all of them taking heavy fire and throwing off molten debris. Sythian warships were swarming them from all sides, firing glittering purple sheets of Pirakla missiles into their listless foe. Atton watched the cruiser to his port side take two full broadsides at once from a pair of passing Sythian battleships. The Avilonian ship was at least twice their size, but with no shields and no weapons to defend itself, it was already full of gaping holes. As Atton looked on, another volley hit that warship, and it cracked into three pieces which began drifting slowly apart. At that, the pair of Sythian warships stopped firing and began turning away, already on the prowl for their next victim.

  “I don’t know what the Avilonians problem is,” Atton said, “but if they don’t fire b
ack soon, we’re all frekked.”

  * * *

  There was barely room to breathe aboard the Trinity. Everywhere Ethan went and everywhere he looked he found Avilonians in their glowing blue-white armor. He had yet to see one of these mysterious people in the flesh, and there was no way for him to tell them apart. The only way he could even tell who was in charge was by the fact that the one who periodically broke his stoic silence to bark out orders wore a shimmering blue cape and had a strange symbol etched into the breastplate of his radiant armor.

  Ethan turned to that one now and said, “We’re almost there.”

  The mysterious man nodded without speaking, and Ethan turned back to his controls. He shot Alara a sideways glance, which she returned with a wary look. Neither of them felt comfortable with so many strangers on board. Making matters worse, the Avilonians refused to explain what was going on, and apparently they had neither seen nor heard from Atton. Either they were lying about that or Atton had been intercepted en route. Ethan wasn’t sure which scenario would be worse. His brow dropped a dark shadow over his eyes as his thoughts took an even darker turn. How many times could a father lose his son?

  He winced and pushed those thoughts from his mind. Focus. One crisis at a time. As for the immediate one, the only thing the Avilonians would say about it was that the leader of their people, someone named Omnius, was in trouble. Somehow this Omnius had disabled all of their ships and weapons in order to protect Avilon against the threat of an armed rebellion.

  Ethan didn’t understand why they didn’t just call Omnius up and say—Hoi, we’re trying to help you; could you reactivate our ships, please? At least that way they wouldn’t have to use his ship. He supposed he should be grateful that he’d found the Avilonians at all, and that they were taking him to Avilon. He should be, but he wasn’t. When he’d needed their help, they’d ignored him and refused to even show themselves for four days. Then, suddenly, when they needed his help, they were everywhere, and impatient as frek to get what they wanted from him. He felt used, and more than a little suspicious of the Avilonians traipsing through his ship.