The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga)

by Fender, Stephen

  “Bingo.”

  He slid over to the large metal tool box and gave it a quick inspection. There were six locks holding the multitude of drawers and compartments closed. He unlocked them all, and then proceeded to unhook the safety latches on the individual doors and pulled them open. Shawn then tried in vain to push the box, but something was holding it fast. He moved around to get a glimpse of the back of the large box, and found that it was being held securely to the bulkhead by a series of nylon straps. Each of them, in turn, had been tied with four different overlapping knots.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous,” he said in exasperation. Shawn reached into his jacket and withdrew the polished blaster he’d retrieved from his room on Minos. Twisting its barrel to produce the narrowest beam possible, he aimed it at the large wad of overlapping straps and fired a shot that neatly incinerated the entire bundle. He then pulled the rest of the straps free of the box and, thankful for the hover casters, easily pushed the massive chest away from the bulkhead.

  He maneuvered it as close to the front of the cargo hold as he could, very nearly blocking the airlock entrance. Satisfied with his plan, he slipped back into the main corridor and resealed the compartment. As he did, Trent emerged from the port side bowling alley and, in their similar haste, very nearly collided headlong with one another.

  Trent gave him a startled look. “Um, I know I’m not a super savvy space pilot like you, but I’m fairly certain you can’t avoid our certain death by flying the ship from the cargo hold,” Trent offered with his best sarcastic tone. “What were you doing back there, anyway?”

  Shawn stepped around the mechanic without a hint of slowing. “Just getting ready to unzip our fly.”

  Trent nodded in silent approval and slipped through the starboard engine room door. As the captain’s words sank into his mind, Trent poked his head back through the still open door in puzzlement. “You’re going to do what?” However, the captain was already through the far door leading to berthing and out of earshot.

  *

  “Where have you been?” Melissa asked with annoyance, turning to face the captain the moment the doors opened onto the command deck.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Shawn jumped into the pilot seat and grabbed the flight yoke at the same instant his feet came into contact with the control pedals. When he attempted to turn Sylvia’s Delight into a slow bank to port, he found that the stick refused to budge more than half an inch. Looking over, he saw Melissa still had a firm grip on the copilot’s lever in front of her, the white tips of her knuckles indicating that Shawn might have to pry the stick from her hands.

  “We can’t both fly this thing, Miss Graves,” he said sharply, then noticed a fine bead of sweat on her forehead. He realized then that she hadn’t physically acknowledged his presence since he’d climbed into his seat. Shawn had seen this kind of behavior during the war, when a pilots brush with death would cause them a sort of minor paralysis. “Its okay, Melissa,” he said in the calmest tone he could muster. “Just let go of the stick.”

  She blinked once, shifting her eyes to the captain without turning her head, then trained them back out into space.

  “Come on, Melissa,” he said more instantly. “Let go. I’ve got her.”

  As if she’d just realized she was gasping a dangerous animal, her hands opened wide and released the stick. “Sorry,” she said nervously. “It’s just that… I’ve never done this before.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, taking the ship into a slow dive. “Fly a ship?”

  “No, not flying you idiot. I mean dying! I’ve never done that before!”

  “We haven’t done that yet, my dear, and we’re not about to… not if I can help it.”

  Suddenly feeling out of place, she looked around nervously, wondering if she should be doing something more. Wait, did he just call me ‘dear’? ”What were you doing back there, anyway? Did you need an emergency bathroom break?”

  He chuckled at the irony of her statement. “No, but I am about to relive us of our little problem.”

  “What on Third Earth does that mean? Is that more uncouth pilot jargon? If it is, I’m getting really tired of it.”

  The captain smacked the intercom switch and began speaking before Trent could acknowledge. “Hang on back there. The ride is about to get pretty rough.”

  Trent confirmed Shawn’s statement, but not without a torrent of expletives describing the captain’s less than adequate flying habits. Shawn turned his attention to Melissa. “You better get another grip on those armrests, lady. There’s bound to be some turbulence.”

  “Turbulence? In space?” she scoffed. “Sounds like you’re the crazy one around here, if you ask me.”

  Shawn reached up for the cargo bay controls. “Crazy like a fox,” he whispered to himself, then pressed the emergency safety override controls. The indicators to the left of the safety override changed from red to flashing green. He quickly moved his hand to the left and allowed his finger to hover over the now blinking control switches. Using all of his available strength, he gripped the control stick with his free hand. If this doesn’t work, we’re in deep trouble. He began the countdown aloud. “In five…four…three… two… one. Now!”

  “What happens now?” Melissa asked just as Shawn pressed the control.

  Instantly the ship jerked violently backwards and down, as if Sylvia’s Delight had come face-to-face with a brick wall in space and lost. The Mark-IV bucked and rolled abruptly, like it was a living thing that was sternly objecting to the punishment it was being subjected to. The computer, sounding somewhat less positive than usual, voiced her concerns over its wellbeing. “Danger: explosive decompression. Hull damaged. Attitude controls at fifty percent of normal. Please land and affect repairs immediately.”

  In the vacuum of space, the rear cargo ramp ejected out from the hull of the Mark-IV. In an impressive feat of acrobatics, the Temkorian executed a perfect roll and avoided the ejected door by inches. However, half a second after the door was blown out, Trent’s toolbox—and all of the tools in it—began cart wheeling through the gaping stern of the ship. The tools formed an instant wall of shrapnel, and the Temkorian fighter was holed through a dozen times over as it passed directly through its center. The ensuing explosion lit up the whole area of space, and an ambient yellow and red glow all around the cockpit told Shawn his gamble had paid off.

  Sylvia’s Delight leveled off as she became accustomed to her new configuration. Trent, frantic as ever, was back on the ships intercom. “If that’s your idea of unzipping your fly, I’m afraid to ask… but, did anything fall out?”

  “Nothing we can’t replace. Glad to hear you’re alright back there,” Shawn replied, then looked to Melissa who was, surprisingly, smiling at him with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

  In truth, she wasn’t sure if she was about to cry, break out in laughter, embrace the captain in a joyous hug, or just close her eyes and be silently grateful for being alive. The only thing she knew for certain was that Captain Shawn Kestrel had delivered. “Very nicely done, Mister Kestrel,” she finally said with a shaky nod.

  Shawn throttled the engine back to maneuvering speed and checked the computer scope. “Thanks, but we’re not out of it yet. There’s still two more of those buggers out there, and there’ll be hell to pay when Trent finds out what happened to his tools.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously. “What happened to his tools?”

  Suddenly the ship slammed forward, the visible stars on the main view port falling off to starboard as the Mark-IV nosed over hard.

  “We’ve been hit, Captain” Trent’s voice yelled out of the speaker. “The backup navigation screens are down, main power output has been cut in half, and life support is failing!”

  Chapter 10

  Like a tiger pursuing an impala on the great African planes of First Earth, the Temkorian fighter was hot on the trail of Sylvia’s Delight, deftly mirroring each bank and dip Shawn made in an attempt at
evasion. With the Mark-IV’s overheated engines throttled back to maneuvering speed, the captain knew it wouldn’t be long until the enemy fighter was in point blank weapons range. There were still two Temkorian fighters remaining, each presumably loaded with deadly missiles, and definitely armed with enough power in their plasma cannons to turn the Mark-IV into slag. And, with Sylvia’s Delight’s cargo bay now open and unprotected, she would be an even easier target than before.

  That’s when the Temkorian scored its first hit. The blast glanced off the gaping cargo hold door frame, sending a shower of sparks momentarily out into the dark void. Immediately another blast struck solidly against the inside of the cargo hold, blowing a five foot wide hole straight through into the starboard engine compartment. Now, with the forward navigation screens down, Shawn had no protection against the horde of debris near the moons remains. Having little choice in the matter, he maneuvered the Mark-IV back into open space.

  Luckily, Trent had made it out in time and was safely back inside the port engine room. But, with the starboard bowling alley now completely devoid of atmosphere, there was no way the he could get over there to stop the cascading failure of the engine that was sure to transpire at any moment. Inside the port engine room, Trent could only stare helplessly at the status monitor as the heat signature for the starboard engine approached dangerous levels.

  Meanwhile, Shawn was trying desperately to keep the Temkorian fighter from gaining a tighter foothold on his six o’clock position. He knew it was only a matter of time until the fighter blew a bigger hole in his ship. The starboard engine was near its breaking point. Once that happened the ship would be far too slow to stay ahead of the Temkorians, and the game would be over. The tiger, it seemed, would get its dinner tonight.

  Melissa tried to hold herself steady as Shawn banked sharply from one side to the other. “Can’t we jump yet?” she asked nervously.

  “Not yet. Those two fighters are still projecting a localized dampening field,” Shawn said as he jerked his head over his shoulder to indicate the pursuing ship. “Besides, our starboard engine is toast. Trent will need to balance the mixture controls before we can jump, and the engines will have to be at near idle for him to do it.”

  “Would any more prayer help?” The annoyance in her voice was unmistakable.

  Shawn turned his head to face her. “It might. Unless I can get D behind him—which I don’t see how that’d be possible at this point—we’ll be in his kill zone in less than a minute.”

  “I thought he wanted us alive?”

  “All we know is that he wants you alive. Considering he doesn’t seem to care about turning my ship into Swiss cheese in the process, I’m not so convinced about his method.”

  She tossed her hands briefly into the air in defeat. “Well, I guess it’s been nice knowing you then.”

  The other enemy fighter joined the fray, and another series of blats rocketed over the ship, causing Shawn to dip the nose down sharply. As he pulled the Mark-IV into a tight turn to port, Melissa watched as a yellow indicator—easily twice the size of most others on the control panel—flashed in sequence three times before becoming steady for five seconds and then repeated the cycle. Not long after, the most irritating and ear shattering noise Melissa had ever hear began sounding throughout the compartment, punctuated by brief respites of silence long enough for the computer to state its quandary: “Proximity alert. Take evasive action, Captain.”

  “Dear God, I think my ears are bleeding!” Melissa shouted over the din.

  Both of Shawn’s eyebrows raised in contemplation. “That’s odd,” he said calmly, as if he didn’t hear the noise at all.

  “What’s so odd about that?” Melissa cried.

  “That Temkorian’s are too far away to induce the proximity alarm.” Shawn double checked the sensor readings, tapping at a series of controls on an overhead display.

  “What does it matter,” she said resolutely. “In thirty-seconds they’ll be on us. Then we’ll just sit and wait for your buddy Jack to send up a salvage ship to tow us in—that is, if we don’t go deaf first from that maddening sound.”

  The grid of the radar screen—usually represented by the three dimensional view of a sub-divided plane—suddenly changed shape, distorting as if someone had just dropped a heavy ball into the center of a rubber membrane. Shawn’s eyes went wide eyed as he suddenly realized what was happening. A gravity well was forming outside the ship—and only four hundred yards from his current position. “Hang on!” he shouted, then slammed the ship hard forward again.

  An instant later, in a brilliant flash of light that lit up space for half a parsec, an enormous craft appeared seemingly from nowhere directly along the heading of Sylvia’s Delight. Shawn nimbly dipped beneath it while the two Temkorian fighters pulled up sharply, barely able to avoid their own impact with the interloper.

  The newcomer was immense. Shawn’s sensors showed that it was over three thousand feet long and nearly five hundred feet wide. Initially, all Shawn could discern was a wide, mouth-like opening on the vessels bow that’d threatened to swallow Sylvia’s Delight before the captain had maneuvered out of its way. He’d swung his ship wide, taking D on a leisurely turn that would give him a better perspective on the new arrival.

  “What is it?” Melissa asked in awe as the large starship slid across the view port. Even at half a mile distant, the behemoth took up the entire field of view.

  “Sector Command, that’s what,” Shawn grunted as D became orientated at the bulky ship. “It looks like a fleet carrier, but I’ve never seen one that size before.” He brought up the schematics for the vessel on the Mark-IV’s sensor display. A wire frame diagram of the carrier was drawn on the screen, which was followed by fighter and crew compliment information. In the upper corner of the screen flashed the angular eagle crest of Unified Sector Command. Shawn had heard rumors of a new carrier design that was supposed to be completed in the next few months, and could only guess this was that same ship. At three-quarters of a mile long, it was the largest ship in Sector Command’s inventory. Indeed, it was touted as one of the largest ships ever constructed in the known galaxy. Now, with its visage taking up Shawn and Melissa’s entire field of view, he could scarcely argue with those anecdotes.

  “Hull identification marks and IFF show it to be the Sector Command carrier Rhea.”

  “IFF?” Melissa said, suddenly feeling ignorant about something she should know.

  “Identification: Friend or Foe. It’s used by the ships targeting computer to tell the good guys from the bad ones.”

  She turned her attention back to the carrier, which had since slowed to a near crawl after its space jump. Suddenly, from the gaping maw near the bow, two solitary flames sped out into space.

  “Looks like their launching fighters,” Shawn nodded towards the pinpoints.

  Melissa scowled at the enormous carrier. “I don’t like the way this looks.”

  Shawn moved the sensors away from the carrier, orientating them towards the recently launched fighters. “Yeah? What’s to like?”

  The sensor readout screen was curiously blank, save for the message ‘Data unavailable. Try again later.’ slowing blinking in its center.

  Melissa was silent as Shawn tried once more to get a reading on the fighters, but each time he tried the screen flashed the same message. “Computer, you’re not coming down with a virus again, are you?”

  The tone of the computers voice could almost have been described as perturbed. “Negative, Captain.”

  He quickly made some minor adjustments. Still, the sensor display showed only the carrier and the Temkorian fighters, although Shawn and Melissa could clearly see the blue-white thrusters of the Unified interceptors as they closed in on their targets.

  Alternating between the sensor readout and what he could see out of the forward view port, Shawn watched as the Unified fighters broke formation, taking on each Temkorian fighter individually. If the Sector Command pilots followed protocol, they
would first attempt to ward the Temkorian’s off to avoid any conflict. However, Shawn and Melissa watched as one of the Temkorian fighters began parading his ship aggressively before opening fire on the Sector Command pilot. Shawn shook his head gravely, having a very good idea what was in store for the ignorant Temkorian.

  True to form, the Sector Command fighter quickly got the upper hand on the alien, disintegrating the Temkorian in a hail of rapid laser fire. Not surprisingly, the remaining Temkorian made a beeline back to Minos unmolested.

  “That was quick,” Shawn offered with an air of disappointment. “At least we won’t have to deal with them anymore.”

  “That may be true, but I think we have a much larger problem on our hands now,” Melissa said as she nodded towards the view port and the lumbering carrier beyond it.

  *

  “Acknowledge this transmission,” the agitated female voice repeated through the speaker once more.

  Irritated that he couldn’t seem to escape angry people shouting at him this week, Shawn reached out and hesitantly pressed the ship-to-ship communications button, it’s once flashing yellow glow turning to a steady white. “That’s confirmed, Rhea, we’re receiving you loud and clear.”

  “Can’t we just leave,” Melissa whispered nervously. “Isn’t the dampening field gone now?”

  Shawn didn’t need to look at his instruments to tell him that the field was indeed gone. It had completely dissipated the moment the last Temkorian fighter returned to Minos. Unfortunately, Sylvia’s Delight was still in pretty bad shape, and then there was the matter of the Sector Command fleet carrier to deal with. While Shawn could have limped back to Minos to tend to any of the repairs his ship needed, he also realized that Jack would undoubtedly make another attempt to secure Melissa—probably a far more successful one than his previous endeavor. There was also the fact that Shawn had deliberately thrown all of Trent’s tools out of the back of the ship during the fight with the Temkorian’s. Even if the captain could land the ship safely back at the Old Flamingo hangar, he’d be grounded—probably permanently—the moment he touched down.