Daedalus (Interstellar Cargo Book 2)

by Matt Verish

  Only a Musgrave would be so reckless....

  But as the final seconds of her existence ticked by, something unexpected happened. The spread of surging missiles began to drift away from their intended target and cluster into groups. They detonated at a safe distance; the flashes on the viewport screen immediately ceased.

  Chrys gaped. “How...?”

  “Merely a thought,” Harper replied. “An extension of my physical being, compliments of Kingston Dartmouth’s genius and my son’s ill intentions.”

  That was hardly an explanation, though Chrys was not about to press her—not when the assault had only begun. Whatever changes had befallen the crew of the Daedalus, Harper must have acquired abilities of her own; telekinesis included. What else can she do?

  The Icarus’s engines exploded to life, driving the ship toward the source of the attack, despite the fact the enemy could not be seen. Chrys sat and watched with a curious sense of horror. Another wave of missiles appeared, double in size, though they met a similar end. The third assault was destroyed as well.

  Witnessing the former admiral’s display of power reminded her of the AI that had once piloted Cole’s ship. CAIN had possessed similar abilities, if to a lesser extent. Harper had never disclosed the exact details of her physical alteration but Chrys wondered if maybe she had somehow gained a mental connection with all things electronic. For her to simply wave away missiles was an asset to Harper’s cause.

  In the midst of her pondering, a new wrinkle was added to the assault. Along with more nukes, ships began to appear from the void. Even as the groups of fighters began their approach, she could see the concealment begin to fall. It was as though she had been staring at one point for too long, only to avert her eyes and see what had been there all along.

  Even as Chrys processed the sight, Harper had already implemented evasive maneuvers to combat the fighters. Chrys worried the onslaught might be too much even for the admiral’s powers, but Harper remained steadfast. In a blinding spray of auto cannon fire and nukes, the Icarus pressed onward, banking, weaving, diving, climbing, and barrel-rolling through the maze of death. Occasional missiles even diverted to become friendly fire.

  It’s as though she’s possessed, Chrys thought. No human could anticipate the attacks bombarding the ship; she doubted CAIN could have handled a tenth of what was being thrown their way. Brilliant a Military strategist as Harper was, she should not be able to accomplish this feat.

  But she was.

  Chrys could no longer make heads nor tales of the chaos. Harper’s footing was secure and masterful through it all. Not even the sudden arrival of a fleet of battlecruisers and legions more fighters could cease the space dance of one interstellar cargo vessel burning a hole through an impenetrable shield. All those that came too close, met a fiery end without one opposing shot being fired.

  Soon the field was littered with a staggering amount of debris, and the Terracom offenders turned to the defensive to avoid the sea of wreckage and drifting bodies. Meanwhile, Harper threaded the Icarus through endless needles, looming closer to the toroidal behemoth. She slowed in the shadow of one of the “sinking” battlecruisers, just out of view of The Fog.

  “Full approach will be impossible,” Harper said, her attention suddenly upon Chrys, “unless I assume command of that station. For now, the battle has shifted in our favor.”

  Was it ever not? Chrys wondered after that brilliant display. “How will you do that without first docking?”

  Harper was heading for the lift. “I will require your assistance, Sergeant. You have partial command of this ship while I am away.”

  Chrys thought her heart might seize in her chest. “You can’t expect me to pilot this ship the same way you just did.”

  “You might surprise yourself,” Harper said as she stood outside the lift entrance. Two of her followers flanked her. “I will be with you in more ways than one. Besides, Commander, I trust you to carry us through to the end. Do not prove me wrong.”

  Commander? Chrys mouthed, the new title bewildering her. Rank was meaningless outside Military, but this was an acknowledgment of respect and trust. This must be a final test. I can’t fail her in her time of greatest need. She’ll be with me. She needs me. “Yes, Admiral.”

  Harper nodded and vanished, leaving Chrys alone with control of bridge.

  Her stomach turned, and she nearly vomited all over the flight yoke. Promises of remote assistance from Harper sounded nice, but the reality of the Terracom swarm did not leave when her feeling particularly dependable. She also had not the slightest clue what Harper intended or how said plan would be carried out. There had been something else aboard the escape vessel that Harper would employ, and whatever it was, Chrys hoped for expedient communication.

  “What, did you space the freakshow?”

  Not the verbal confirmation I was hoping for, Chrys thought, more than a little peeved. “Not that it’s any of your concern, Solomon, but no, I did not ‘space’ Admiral Musgrave.” Against her better judgment, she faced the lurking mechanic. He was standing at the threshold of the bridge, his expression a combination of curiosity and unease. “But I can make arrangements for you, if you’d like.”

  Rig walked onto the bridge with some hesitance. He glanced around as though one of Harper’s silent protectors would jump out at any moment. “I never thought I’d say this, but that crazy bitch is kinda making me miss her Benedict Arnold son. Not even he would be stupid enough to fly us through this mine field.”

  Chrys scowled at the crude moniker. “Musgrave flew us directly into a black hole, amongst other difficult situations.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or have you already forgotten?”

  “Huh. Good point.”

  “Speaking of points,” Chrys said, refacing the viewport screen, “would you mind explaining the point behind your being here?”

  The mechanic stopped just shy of standing beside her. He was also staring at the screen while their battlecruiser cover continued to disintegrate. “What’d we get ourselves into?”

  “Don’t you mean out of?” Chrys challenged. “Admiral Musgrave sought us out, replaced an inferior captain with her superior competence, led our return back to this galaxy, and gave us an opportunity to repent for our past sins.”

  Rig cleared his throat. “Um, I don’t remember signin’ up for that last part. Maybe you’re all lovey-dovey with her again, but she’s sorta scarin’ the piss outta me and Miss Singularity.”

  “A true leader earns respect through action, not pleasantries. And the greatest leader’s intentions aren’t always obvious to those who are less inclined to see.”

  “Pretty sure that was you about six hours ago,” Rig said. “What changed?”

  Chrys sat up straighter, her attention still on the battlecruiser. “I finally opened my eyes and used them to see.”

  Rig dropped into the co-pilot’s chair with a whump. “Or Nugget’s mommy did something to that pea brain of yours.”

  Chrys’s hands tightened around the flight controls. “You turned on Cole the same as I did. You’re involved in this whether you like it or not.”

  “Don’t gotta be that way,” he replied easily, kicking his feet up onto the console. “All I did was seize an opportunity to save my ass. Cole lost his shit back wherever we were, and it looks like his mother did too. Let ‘em get themselves killed. This ain’t our fight.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Chrys said. “It’s always been our fight. We just didn’t know it. Musgrave’s recklessness sidetracked an otherwise sound mission to overthrow Terracom.”

  Rig was shaking his head. “That’s what she wants you to believe. Ain’t nothin’s changed, and it don’t change the fact that she was once in bed with the likes of Black Dwarf and Daddy Dartmouth.” He leaned on his armrest. I mean, you don’t really believe her intentions are wholly noble, do you?”

  “Anyone willing to go to such lengths to take down Terracom earns my respect,” Chrys said, though she hated how uncer
tain she sounded.

  “Put out a fire by throwin’ gas on it, eh?” Rig asked, shaking his head. “Damn, she must’ve sweet-talked you real good. Didn’t you walk away from Military because of her? Now you’re all buddy-buddy. And you sure were quick to forget what it was she had originally planned for all of mankind to ‘combat’ Terracom.”

  Chrys took a deep, calming breath. She closed her eyes and tried to push past the thought of Harper employing the collider to advance the human race—just to defeat the overreaching will of The Fog. “I didn’t have the patience or the foresight to understand her vision. She has a legitimate reason for everything she does.”

  “I’m sure.”

  She could hear the mockery in his voice, and out of the corner of her eye, see that infuriating smirk. “If you don’t have anything constructive to contribute, then you can leave. I have enough to worry about without having to deal with your nonsense.”

  Rig snapped his fingers and pointed at Chrys. “You really do have a thing for her,” he said. He slid his boots off the console and let his legs drop onto the floor. “Don’t you.”

  Chrys said nothing, unable to keep her face from heating.

  “Holy shit! I knew it!” He clapped his hands together. “I was only kinda kiddin’ when I first pointed it out. No wonder you’re so eager to follow her to your—our deaths.”

  “My feelings hold no sway over my decision-making!” Chrys shouted back, but even as the words escaped her lips, she knew they weren’t entirely true. Openly denying her emotions toward Harper would make no difference in the eyes of her crew. Or anyone, for that matter. What did matter was making the correct decision: Eternity on the run, or standing up in the face of evil?

  It pained Chrys to think that one woman had shouldered the impossible mission to defeat an enemy more powerful than all five divisions of AMBER combined. And to do it all while still wearing the cloak of a prestigious, law-abiding member of Starforce...she couldn’t imagine the enormity such an undertaking. It was no wonder why Harper had appeared to come apart at the seams. Her choices in business partners may have raised many alarming questions about her sanity, but to whom else was she supposed to turn when not even her own government could not and would not help her?

  Not me, Chrys thought. She had numbered among those denied the honor of assisting Harper’s cause. I was too busy misreading the signs. There will not be another time.

  Rig was trying, but failing, to stifle his laughter. “Look, I guess it don’t matter to me. Not anymore. We’re fucked every which way you slice this shit pie. I already made peace with my death long before we went through that black hole. This is borrowed time as far as I’m concerned, and I was just hoping to stretch it a bit longer.” He stood and nudged Chrys’s shoulder. “No point in tryin’ to fight this. We’re already up to our nuts in it, so we might as well dive in.” He burped, breath reeking of alcohol. “You got me. Pretty sure Doc is in too, but I’m definitely with you till the end. Which is now a lot closer than we think.”

  Shock was an understatement. Behind that gruff veneer was still the heart of a soldier.

  “Commander,” came Harper’s voice over Chrys’s comm. “It’s time. Are you ready to proceed?”

  “We’re ready, Admiral.”

  “Our cover is nearly gone. Terracom will soon mount another assault. We need to take them by surprise once more while the advantage is in our favor. This is where you factor in.”

  An exterior schematic of the giant station appeared on the viewport screen in front of Chrys and Rig, a flashing red beacon indicating what was their intended target. A yellow beacon pinpointed the location of the Icarus. Chrys already knew what Harper’s order was going to be, but that didn’t make her feel any less terrified.

  “I need you to fly us straight toward the beacon,” Harper said, completing Chrys’s prediction. “My access to the ship’s navigation will be temporarily compromised, though no maneuvering should be needed on your part as I will still be able to defend against any immediate threat. Once we are within range, I will give the order for you to simultaneously launch all missiles.”

  What exactly is she hoping to accomplish by firing a few missiles? Chrys wondered. And why can’t she just do it herself?

  “There will be a short time,” Harper continued, “where you will be vulnerable. I am relying on you to keep the ship safe until such times that I can regain control of the situation.”

  “What situation?” Rig mouthed, his hands held out, palms up.

  Chrys only shook her head, too overwhelmed to respond. “I will do my best, Admiral. However, I’m not sure I completely understand this mission.”

  “There’s no time for a full briefing, Commander,” Harper snapped. “I need you to follow orders.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  “Good. Commence flight.”

  Engines reignited, and the Icarus blasted out from behind the safety of the destroyed battlecruiser. Chrys could see no clear path through to The Fog. Debris was so dense that not even a tiny fighter could navigate the field without taking severe damage. Placing all faith in the admiral, she punched straight for her target and hoped for the best.

  “I’m not drunk enough for this,” Rig said, retaking his seat.

  “All the better,” Chrys replied. “Now you’ll be able to remember this moment.”

  “Can’t remember nuthin’ if my brain is splattered all...aaahhhhhh!”

  The sleek frame of the Icarus pierced the impenetrable, and what should’ve been instantaneous obliteration turned into a miraculous parting of the sea. An invisible tunnel opened around them, permitting the ship enough clearance to travel without interference. It was not unlike traveling through a wormhole, though the stakes were infinitely higher should a single mistake be made.

  She’s done it! Chrys thought with mounting relief. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, and she wondered if this was how Cole felt all those times he faced impossible odds head-on. It felt exhilarating. It felt right.

  Then they were out of the rubble field, and The Fog was upon them, dwarfing their ship for the gnat it was.

  “We’re within range, Commander,” Harper announced. “Prepare both missile bays before the next wave of resistance. You will need to initiate launch twice.”

  Chrys readied all weapons. “Armed.”

  “Commander. Stand your ground, and evade the enemy. I’m counting on you to survive until I establish contact.”

  It’s like she’s leaving, Chrys thought, some of her high diminishing. “Aye, Sir.”

  “Launch!”

  All contents were unloaded in succession. Before Chrys diverted their course away from the station, she noticed something peculiar about the two waves of missiles—if they could be called missiles at all.

  “What the shit?” Rig exclaimed. “Are you seein’ this?”

  Chrys enlarged their view of the missiles to reveal them for what they truly were. It was then she understood the words Harper had chosen.

  “Admiral....”

  What should have been four nukes was an amalgamation of both man and weapon. Harper’s body was combined with the warhead, hints of her human form hardly recognizable along the shaft of the missile. The other three nukes were melded with her silent followers. All of them were destined for annihilation.

  “They’re crazy,” Rig said, breathless. “This whole thing’s insane....”

  Chrys could not comment. Morbid curiosity held sway over her attention despite knowing she should make a hasty exit. Already, more ships of every class were descending on both the humanoid missiles as well as the Icarus. She had to see it through to the end.

  Just when it looked as though her worst fears had been confirmed, the bodies separated from their missile steeds and continued the rest of the way toward The Fog’s hull. The missiles left formation and drifted into the nearest attackers.

  The resulting flashes woke Chrys from her reverie. She jerked back hard on the flight yoke, and the last she saw of Harper w
as her and the other three connecting with the station. Then came an avalanche of Terracom ships.

  They were trapped between the enemy space station and the closing wall of ships. Without Harper’s aid, evasion would be impossible. Chrys let her hands slip from the controls.

  Admiral. I’ve failed.

  23

  REVENGE

  Against all odds, Chrys flew the Icarus toward what she hoped was the point of least resistance. It would make no difference, she knew, but maybe—just maybe—it would buy them enough time. Every second she avoided destruction was a win.

  But barely five seconds into the desperate evasion, the gap had closed, and Chrys found herself navigating through a hornet’s nest. Like the stinging pests, Terracom’s fighters buzzed past dangerously close to the hull as though purposely trying to crash into them. The ship’s guidance system barely saw them through the chaos.

  When she broke through to a patch of empty space, she expected to finally be overcome. She was left expectant. Kobold-2s zipped around and continued their search-and-destroy mission, though they seemed lost. And there was something else peculiar about their assault....

  “Why aren’t they firin’?”

  Chrys stared into the meandering Terracom armada, wondering the same thing. It was not that the Icarus had suddenly become lost to all scanners because of its cloaking, for that had been active before the assault.

  Harper. Could she have already achieved her mission?

  “She must’ve intercepted their tracking systems,” Chrys surmised aloud.

  “You sayin’ they’re flyin’ blind?” Rig asked.

  “Blind or not, they have eyes,” Chrys replied, realizing they weren’t in the clear yet. “And we’re not completely invisible.” She had to decide whether or not to continue the escape or remain where they. Either option had its risks, be it collision or discovery. Once again she was faced with a decision that Cole would have made on instinct.