Twin suns of Carrola (Starshatter Book 2)

by Dark Knight

  Deep inside the base’s core, its main servers started blowing up one after another and a small, red colored holo appeared over the main flight controls of one certain pirate dropship. Still docked inside the hangar that had been devastated by all manner of weapons, the vessel suddenly spooled all of its systems and lifted slightly up above the landing pad. Unnoticed by all, captain Anit’za had painted one four legged Earth animal that looked to be crudely made of wood, too small for most to see, on the craft’s bow.

  Alice knew that was the vessel’s new designation – “Trojan horse”

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  As the stumbling slaves moved into Pion base’s ravaged hangar, they had their backs protected by the human telepath Boris and avern’a Kera. Both were wounded multiple times, yet continued fighting off section after section of pirate and taz’aran troops. Their captain was still unconscious since Kera had ran out of meds, and was unable to resuscitate him. At least the wound he received earlier she was able to patch using old school methods – a hot needle and surgical thread.

  Someone else was also near. A small shadowy figure was sometimes sliding in and out of the darkness, shooting with her railgun or slicing somebody’s throat with merciless efficiency. It was evident to the slaves – that it was another one of their rescuers, probably a small Terran. Either rabbit or a hamster, both famed throughout the Fringe for being some of the few free Clients in existence.

  Far to the south side of the hangar one big gorilla slowly limped from cover to cover, turning from time to time to shower her pursuers with devastating sprays of auto-railgun projectiles. In the distance they could see one heavily damaged space mech towering, under attack by three Terran warriors. An Asgardian, a Kil’ra, and one small courageous hamster, were bashing, shooting and slashing the mech’s feet from all sides. Its pilot, unable to cope with their relentless attacks panically ejected, only to get shot down by the hamster’s laser weapon.

  Through one of the main corridors another duo danced towards them, weapons hot, and armors littered with molten holes, dents, and bent by shrapnel. The towering Terran star marine and his athletic wife, who was wearing a spacer suit, were both a magnificent sight to behold. And as they vanquished pirate after pirate with grace, precision, and peerless bravery, the slaves cheered, hope gleaming again in their eyes. Was this to be the day they would be freed?

  The Universe takes, and yet, it also delivers.

  All had managed to safely reach a single pirate dropship, somehow spared from the devastation all around. Covering all of their escape was another craft, an ominous looking GAV that fired barrages on all sides with its railguns and laser cannons. Whatever pursuers the slaves still had trailing behind them – were all shredded, blown to bits, or fried, while the dropship was being filled to its maximum carrying capacity. With all of its systems pre-spooled and ready to go, the spacer took control and soon the vessel bolted toward outer space. The GAV pilot ever-so-skillfully managed to mag-lock its landing struts onto the dropship’s ventral hull, and after unleashing a disposable engine booster, both craft left the burning hangar behind.

  None of the station’s guns were able to fire at them because they were either inoperable, or crashed starships were sticking out of their hard-points. The slaves witnessed Pion base’s devastated outer hull ablaze with plasma fires, rudderless spaceships still plunging into it surface. Those wounded Terrans were now being treated by their avern’a savior – all looked tired beyond measure. All but the half-aryan marine, who came to them and hands shining with blue whitish glow, made their sores, torture cuts and bruises disappear as if they had never existed in the first place.

  The conjoined vessels made their run deeper into the darkness of space, while the base’s confused patrol craft were still nowhere to be seen. When they finally did appear, the GAV craft spread its dark wings and then folded most of their segments around the dropship’s hull. Suddenly those patrol fighter wings became confused, as if the sensor signatures that they were going after had either shrunk, or disappeared altogether. Pirate craft fell back, and started spreading around, executing wide scan search patters, all the while their Terran quarry finally reached one well hidden starship.

  They had just docked with Starshatter when its scanners, set on passive mode, had detected another vessel sliding out of hyperspace and into Pion system. It was a taz’aran prototype frigate called the ’Empress Throne’ which had finally fixed its Engines, and managed to perform a successful hyperjump back to its supply base. Not waiting to see their enemy’s reaction, Starshatter finished another full orbit around the gas giant, and with a minute puff from its Engine, performed a hyperjump on its own. It went completely undetected since its crew and navigator used the magnetic disturbance of that huge planet to shield their movement. By the time taz’aran patrols had actually located their well concealed engine trail, the Terrans were long gone.

  Their starship had now set a new course – the Terran Minarchy’s inner space colonies. It was traveling towards Vasilisa’s home colony of Ileana, or as it was better known “The pond”. Even with all the damage taken, wounds suffered, and strife bested, the crew and ship had performed well. Now, what mattered was the speed with which Vasilisa’s kin could fix their starship, and they themselves prepare for the next part of their journey.

  Recovering in their medbay, the Olian TA pilot Kawauso told them a story of suffering and pain. The battle in which he was captured by the enemy, and afterwards, his meeting with Lilly’s kidnapped neighbors. Together, their entire group was supposed to be sold and delivered deep into the depths of Fringe space. Yet another dreaded enemy of the Terran Minarchy had reared its disgustingly ugly head. Greatly reviled, the cannibalistic Jaern had inflicted a lot of pain and suffering to Vasilisa and her family. Sad, and all but broken, the pilot recited all the events that lead to him ending up on Pion base.

  He and his Olian brothers and sisters had a mission. They were piloting a squadron of space mecha that was to intercept one Push’va pirate ship and destroy it before it might reach Fringe space. They failed. Instead of one single pirate vessel, he and his squadron slid out of hyperspace next to a two and half kilometers long Jaern mothership! It seemed that their enemies had found a common purpose in bringing down the Terran Minarchy, and were working together by forming an unsightly alliance. After one short battle against the odds, that was doomed to begin with, where Kawauso and his brood fought desperately using all of their skills, he was captured after his TA exploded, and taken prisoner on board the pirate ship. Her captain later exchanged him for spare parts to his allies, the Taz’aran Frontier’s Navy, and the starship he was transferred onto was the very same one which was ferrying the kidnapped colonists from ’Murphy’s Landing’.

  Kawauso, bolstered by the presence of his Terran allies, then tried escaping. He sadly failed due to his rotten luck, and he and his co-conspirators were almost flayed alive to keep the others in check. During his torture, he overheard the captain of this vessel speaking with his Jaern contact. Brave Kawauso remembered everything clearly, and gladly shared all that he knew with his rescuers – the coordinates of the star system named Gaour. Somewhere, on one of the planets’ surface, Jaern had built a research facility, and it was in need of fresh slaves. Whatever it was that the aliens were planning, or already engaged in, they had to be stopped, and Kawauso pledged the assistance of his brood. After all, what was the purpose of being part of the star blood, if not to aid one’s ally in their darkest hour?

  Epilogue

  Noble Ambition

  Whatever Omasa thought would happen after their enemy used their hyperspace engine to dart away, it didn't. Nedal failed to arrive on time with that Terran reactor assembly, as did his commando team. And while the crew on the lower decks died from radiation or the cold, he and the bridge officers were fine on the command deck. Damaged as it was, 'Empress Throne' still had emergency power reserves that could be used in a
pinch. Omasa sent the few officers he still had to oversee repairs and lead either medical teams or rescue operations throughout the vessel. Not one protested. Good. He wouldn’t have to shoot any of them for insubordination. Omasa personally handpicked his officers, all of them from lower noble houses. This way he could ensure their loyalty and effectiveness. His best two now were Vala and, not surprisingly, that ex-comms officer, Tale. She had serious skills that, of course, she kept well hidden right until the very last moment, when a taz'aran woman could shine brightest. Tale was not only a good staff officer, she was stunningly beautiful. Why she never sold herself into high nobility and remained a lowly staffer, he didn’t know.

  Maybe she couldn't locate noble family rich enough in the Imperial sector where she hailed from? Beautiful and skilled taz'aran women held all the cards in such occasions. They also got half the money from such deals, while the other half went to their families. Did Tale even have a family? Perhaps that was why instead of living in lavish luxury for the rest of her natural life with all but the wildest whims instantly satisfied, she had to risk life and limb serving on a Frontiers' Navy vessel.

  Vala was visibly relieved that one of her clansmates managed to fulfill his duty and save Omasa's life. Despite the losses that they sustained, if Omasa hadn't spent those decats earlier, he'd be a dead man now. They buried that marine who saved Omasa from that falling beam in the Dark with full military honors. His suit and other possessions were spread amongst the living warriors as per Clanner funerary tradition and his last pay was to be sent to whatever kin he had. While that was not something taz'arans did, Omasa had to agree it felt prudent to adopt the practice. A change like that could motivate the cannon fodder to act in a more inspired manner, and after consulting with Tale he implemented the same policy for both low crewmen and star troopers. The rise in morale in their significantly beaten down personnel was immediately apparent.

  Somehow his space mecha ace had survived. Vala’s marines picked up the escape pod. Body ravaged and limbs missing, the captain decided to spend some of their precious reserve power and put the squadron leader in a stasis pod. Evidently he faced off against the same Terran pilot who destroyed all of his support craft and was responsible for the loss of an entire taz'aran command frigate. Omasa knew good pilots when he saw them and this man was someone that the captain wanted alive, angry, and ready to fight his enemies again in the future. Clanners respected those who fought against the Terrans. More importantly they also believed in luck and survivors who fought on their side were considered a lucky charm of sorts. He'd make sure to replace the pilot's lost limbs and organs with quality cybernetics – but it wasn't something to be immediately concerned about now.

  The three of them sat beside a table that projected the holo-map of their starship. Tale held her updated PDA high, swiping updated files after each of their repair teams had reported in.

  “Lord Captain, your staff officers report that all the repairs we could handle now were completed. After all projections, we have won at best one more day of working life support.”

  Tale exchanged a curious look with their pirate marine commander. It was as if she was trying to goad Vala into revealing an even higher level of commitment to the ship, crew, and most importantly her captain.

  “Top notch work, Adjutant Tale. I will see that you get another commendation after we get back to Pion base. Being promoted to the position of my top aid is already enough of a field advancement for one single deployment. We don't want those degenerates in High Command to get any bright ideas, do we?”

  “I’m grateful for my newly found purpose and that it allows me to better serve in your employ, my Lord!”

  Tale stood at attention and saluted, while Vala's face twitched. It was clear to Omasa that the two would never become friends. He’d probably witness a rivalry blossom between them soon. It was the last thing he needed. While other lord captains would allow such things to transpire and even encourage it for their own benefit, Omasa would actually try to prevent it. Deep in the back of his mind he remembered well what had happened on the bridge during combat. Tale may be strange, but her value to him and his ambitions continued to grow. Vala was also extremely skilled, and lucky to have survived an onslaught of the mightiest of Terrans. She too had become all but irreplaceable for Omasa's future plans.

  No.

  The Lord Captain could not afford for them to develop a seething hatred for each other. He was sick and tired of idiotic, pointless rivalries that facilitated nothing but mediocrity. Against the Terran Minarchy mediocrity meant certain death. He knew that well now.

  “Let’s discuss our next move, so that by the time that idiot Nedal drags his cowardly ass back we’ll still be alive. We need crew capable of assembling that looted power core. We can’t fix a whole ship's reactor with just the three of us. Suggestions?”

  “Boss, me and my boys can use our exosuits to try and pilfer the debris for anything usable, provided we have some spare fuel. Can we spare any, Tale?”

  “Certainly. Our Lord Captain took great pains to secure an extra cargo load of fuel, just in case anything like that happened. But, I should ask, what about that dropship of yours, Commander Vala? Can't you use it to complete the same task faster?”

  “Yes we can, but the fuel cost would be greater. Besides, my warriors will call for it after they actually find something worth salvaging. Captain?”

  Omasa smashed his fist on the table and ordered:

  “Then we shall commit fully to this course of action! Move what personnel won’t survive from irradiated port hangar to lower deck six. It is regrettable, but our duty is for the living and those we can yet wrest from death's clutches! Clan Aleska’s warriors will conduct salvage operations from our starboard hangar bay which is to be cleared of the healthy crewmen now residing there. Order them to move near the hospital bay and settle the less irradiated corridors. Flood the life support with our last anti-radiation nanobots and, Vala? I want you to find me anything that would help against that radiation. Reactor casings, armored bulkheads, spare power packs and if possible, power cores. Adjutant Tale, you will coordinate the operation from the bridge. I want constant communication and data-flow between you and Vala's field teams. Take whomever you think might be useful from our lower-enlisted officers to become your underlings. Good luck to all of us!”

  Vala saluted. “I will do your bidding, my Lord.”

  Proudly smiling back at Omasa, his star marine commander moved quickly from the holo-table into the bridge's improvised airlock. Her warriors ran along 'Empress Throne's' outer hull using their mag boots, grapplers and spacesuit engines. Her report on the losses she’d suffered angered him at first but later, after he realized what Vala stood up against, Omasa was happy they had any star marines left at all. Let alone any who brought back valuable intelligence. He was sure that after dragging their asses back to Pion base, Boss Vala could easily use that information to not only replenish her lost warriors, but increase their number two fold.

  'Bremen’.

  That was a name that nobody wanted to hear. Not the high command, nor the older lower echelon fleet captains who still prowled along the border. Remembering what happened when their destroyer 'Corsair', pride of the Frontiers' navy squadrons, faced that accursed Terran warship in battle almost made them feel obsolete. It was the vessel's first and last fight since her captain decided to be greedy and made a deal with clan Aleska to split both glory and loot. The man hid all hyperspace navigation coordinates and switched off their locator beacons. In essence the plan was good. He and the rest of his peers at the Imperial academy had studied what little was known about it. Secretly, of course, since it was unauthorized and that whole battle wasn’t even mentioned in the taz'aran fleet combat registry.

  Officially that is.

  The reality of it all was much more horrid than any of them could even imagine. A month later, after Omasa had left the academy, he'd stumbled upon an old pirate navigator in the employ of a border Lor
d Commodore. That man had surviving relatives who personally fought in that battle and he told Omasa a tale most riveting. Terrans flew defiantly directly through their trap as they always did. Butchered every single one of those Aleska ships, including their four command frigates. Hundreds of starfighters, bombers and dropships were scrapped and many thousands of warriors slaughtered in mere minutes. Omasa was in awe of both sides' bravery, skill and determination to continue the fight after such horrific losses.

  The taz'aran destroyer waited until the very last possible moment to make a move. Her captain performed a pinpoint hyperjump, one of the technologies that taz'arans had secretly developed and used only in cases of absolute necessity. If anything this was one such moment and the destroyer captain made a proper command decision. Waiting for the clanners to soften the brunt of her enemy's firepower was another smart decision. By all accounts and according to all taz'aran fleet manuals they should've won! 'Bremen' was severely battered; her main batteries damaged and mostly inoperable, heatsinks basically useless, and still she continued fighting. Whatever those humans did in the end, it was self-sacrifice on a scale that taz'arans couldn't comprehend nor replicate. In their usual stubborn and uncompromising bullheadedness, the Terrans dragged every single one of the enemies who faced them in battle that day straight to Hell. To think that all those gunnery crews stood, bodies burning inside their casemats, and continued firing with their starship unable to vent all that heat was simply mind boggling. In their place any other race would've retreated or surrendered. Clanners now revered the place, since in that Holy Darkness where they lost thousands of kin their hated enemy was also vanquished.