Starship Guardian (The Galactic Wars Book 4)

by Ellis,Tripp

  “I think Commander Rourke will find the Revenant’s brig most appealing.” Slade tried to hold back a grin. But she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

  The Marines carted Rourke off as he grumbled. It was a sublime moment of vindication for Slade.

  9

  New Earth

  Fire engulfed the vehicle. Metal was popping and pinging. Presley felt the searing heat on her skin—she was about to be roasted alive. The cabin was filling with smoke, and the smell of burning rubber. She hacked and coughed as she knocked out the remaining fragments of glass in the window.

  She grabbed her mobile and crawled out of the car, onto the concrete, scampering away from the wreckage. Her body was stiff and sore and covered with minor cuts and abrasions. But she didn’t have any puncture wounds. Nothing felt broken.

  Presley ran from the flaming vehicle and scaled the K-rail just as the fuel cell exploded. Bits of metal and glass sprayed into the air. A piece of shrapnel slammed into the concrete K-rail, narrowly missing her.

  More fighters were swarming overhead. She ran across the feeder road and took cover in a bombed out shell of a building. Crumbled bricks and broken glass were everywhere. Presley wished she’d taken the time to put on her shoes before she left the beach. But she hated the feeling of sand in her socks. Now she was barefoot in an area with lots of sharp bits on the ground.

  She was only a few blocks from downtown, on the southeast side, not far from the convention center. The museum was in midtown on the westside. Roughly 5 miles away. But it was going to be a long 5 miles.

  The screen on her mobile was shattered and webbed with cracks. But it still worked. She tried calling her mother one more time.

  Her mother’s panicked voice answered. “Presley, where are you? I called the school, you didn’t show up this morning. I’ve been worried sick.”

  “I’m fine. I’m just south of downtown.”

  “What are you doing there?”

  “It’s a long story. I’m on my way to get Timmy.”

  “So am I. Just get out of town. Get to dad’s bunker in Fayetteville. There’s food, water, and it’s remote. I always thought he was crazy for building that thing.”

  “I’m not going to just leave you guys.”

  “We’ll meet you there. Just go!”

  “Ok. Where are you?”

  “I’m at Olympic and 23rd. Now go. I love you. Be safe—“

  A massive explosion filtered through the mobile. A look of terror washed over Presley’s face. “Mom? Mom?”

  There was no response.

  Presley’s eyes filled. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Mom!” she shrieked.

  She broke down, sobbing. Her chest heaved an jerked as she gasped for breath. But this was neither the time, nor the place, to have a meltdown.

  Presley made a call to Commander Walker. It was a long shot, she thought. He was probably off in some fart part of the galaxy. But he had always said to call if they needed anything. He did his best to help the family after Presley’s father died. Walker was always checking on them, and slipping them extra credits to help make ends meet.

  As she anticipated, Walker’s device was unavailable. Presley left a teary video message. “Commander Walker, it’s Presley. I need your help. We’re under attack. Timmy is trapped at the museum. Mom is… I don’t know. I lost contact with her. If you’re anywhere near New Earth, please help us.”

  Presley hung up, and hoped she’d hear back from him. It was a message that Walker might not ever receive, depending on the viability of the network.

  Presley could hear the sound of small arms fire in the distance. There were still plenty of explosions and fighters racing overhead. She heard cannons and RPGs and missiles firing back at them. The Army was putting up a fight.

  She wasn’t about to get out of town now. She had to know what happened to her mother. Her stomach was a ball of knots, and she felt nauseous. If something had happened to Lauren, Presley was Timmy’s only hope.

  She pulled herself together and scanned the area. She dashed into the street, heading up Rockaway Avenue. She took cover under the elevated portion of the freeway. She ran from pillar to pillar, making sure the streets were clear before dashing to the next intersection.

  An Army platoon was several blocks ahead. They were hunkered down behind cars and taking cover in alleyways. They exchanged a ruthless barrage of fire with the enemy.

  The Decluvians were advancing ground forces through the city. Blue streaks, like tracer rounds, blasted through the hazy streets. The Decluvian projectiles left a smoldering blast crater on impact that was a foot in diameter—and that was when it hit brick or concrete. The plasma projectiles did extremely unpleasant things to flesh.

  The platoon was doing a good job of holding the Decluvians off, but they were outgunned and outnumbered. Presley dashed over several blocks, trying to find another way around. She ran into another platoon that was falling back to a safer position.

  One of the soldiers, Sergeant Connelly, saw her. “Hey! You gotta get out of here.” He ran to her and tried to pull her along with them, but she resisted.

  “No. I’ve got to get to Midtown.”

  He lifted his brow at her. “Oh, hell no. You don’t want to go to Midtown.” He said it like Midtown was the worst place in the world. And right now, it was. “You’ll be safe with us. We can get you to a transport and get you out.”

  “My little brother’s in Midtown.”

  “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can do for him.”

  Presley glared at him. Her eyes brimmed, and the lump in her throat burned. She didn’t want to hear that kind of talk.

  The Sergeant kept falling back with his platoon. Presley stood still in the street. The two drifted apart like ships at sea.

  “C’mon,” he yelled.

  Presley turned and ran toward Midtown. She crossed over St. Joseph’s Parkway and picked up Leland Avenue. She took cover behind whatever structures she could find. Some of the buildings were perfectly intact. Others were smoldering ruins, reduced to piles of twisted rubble and I-beams.

  She heard the commotion of troops ahead and took cover among the debris of the old Polk building. A company of Decluvians marched around the corner, escorted by two tanks.

  Presley got a closer look at these creatures than she ever wanted. Their big round eyes. Their colorful amphibian skin—orange, green, blue, red, yellow, and some were a mix of all of the above. They were oddly beautiful creatures, she thought. But the fact that they had destroyed her beloved city made them ugly.

  Presley’s heart raced as she crouched down behind what was left of a brick wall. She watched through a crack in the brick and heard the heavy footsteps of the soldiers march by. Shattered glass crunched under their boots as they walked. Sharp shards were everywhere throughout the city. Presley had made it this far without slicing up her feet, but it had been a challenge. Her once dainty feet and pink toenails were now blackened and scuffed. It was hard to tell what color her toenails were painted now.

  She sat perfectly still, trying not to make a sound. The enemy company passed without incident. She breathed a sigh of relief, and her heartbeat began to settle back to a normal rhythm. But just as she was starting to feel safe, she heard a voice call out behind her.

  10

  Slade

  It was business as usual—only the name of the ship had changed. The crew of the Scorpion settled into the Revenant and resumed their duties. The once dark and ominous hallways were now bustling with activity. The nonstop drone of a working destroyer filled the air.

  There was plenty of scuttlebutt about what had happened to the Revenant, and how she came to be under Slade’s command. The stories became even more exaggerated, and the crew was a little skittish at first. This was the ship that drifted about the galaxy for 25 years. Some took it as an omen. A sign of Divine Providence that Slade was going to be the salvation of humanity. Others took it to mean they were doomed.

  Slade sto
od in the CIC looking out at the devastated Scorpion—now she was the one that was drifting through space, empty and lifeless.

  “What do you want to do about her, sir?” Zoey asked.

  It was standard operating procedure for the UPDF not to leave viable assets in the field. But the Scorpion was anything but viable, and Slade just couldn’t bring herself to scuttle the ship. “We’ll leave her here. Maybe she can be salvaged at some point in time.”

  Her grim eyes gazed out at the ship that she had commanded for most of her career. It was like saying goodbye to an old friend. She took a last glimpse, then stepped away from the viewport. “Zoey, you have the conn.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Slade marched out of the CIC and headed down to the brig. Two Marines stood guard out front. There was a front desk, a prisoner processing area, evidence lockers, and a block of cells—solitary confinement units that were guaranteed to drive you mad. Slade strolled the corridor to Rourke’s chamber.

  “Did you come down here to gloat?” Rourke asked, shouting through the hatch.

  Slade peered at him through the polycarbonate viewport. “I came down here to gather intel. What condition is the fleet in?”

  Rourke scoffed. “What fleet? There’s nothing left. The Devastator jumped away at the first sign of trouble. Cowards. Left our asses hanging in the breeze. The dozen or so ships we had didn’t stand a chance.”

  “How many alien warships?”

  “Too many to count. Heavy destroyers, super-carriers, troop transports, you name it.”

  “I hear you left a full squadron behind,” Slade said.

  Rourke grimaced. “I didn’t have a choice. Any longer and the Scorpion would’ve been destroyed. I saved the lives of 1600 crew.” He puffed up his chest. “You’d have done the same damn thing.”

  “I wouldn’t presume to cast judgment on decisions made in the heat of battle.”

  Rourke looked away, almost ashamed.

  “Is my son still alive?”

  “As far as I know, he was on the Devastator when they jumped away.”

  Slade breathed a sigh of relief. For once, she was thankful that President Amado and the bureaucrats at JPOC were spineless.

  “How long are you going to keep me locked up in here?” Rourke grumbled.

  “Be glad I don’t put you in the airlock and space you.” Slade glared at him. She left Rourke confined in his cell and headed toward the CIC. Along the way, she ran into Walker in the corridor.

  “Holding him is dangerous,” Walker said. “He took your command once before. There may be those who are loyal to him on board.”

  “What would you have me do?”

  Walker arched an eyebrow at her.

  “I can’t just kill him.”

  “I can do it for you,” Walker said with a grin. The offer was made in jest, mostly.

  “Down boy.”

  “At least let me rough him up a little.” Walker was still, sort of, joking.

  “Something tells me that would be equally as fatal.”

  “Just trying to help.” Walker smiled, and his eyes sparkled.

  “Can you come up with an entire fleet of destroyers? That would be a big help.”

  Walker pursed his lips. The only fleet he knew of was that of the synthetics near Auva Prime.

  “There were a few garbled transmissions from the fleet over the network. Things were looking pretty bad. The mil-net is down now. I can only assume the worst. Rourke seems to think the entire fleet is gone.” Slade let out a deep exhale. She shook her head. “They took Delta Vega in less than a day.”

  “Rushing into combat now would be suicide.”

  Slade pondered her options. “We have a Decluvian troop transport in our hangar bay. That would allow us to get close. Load that thing with warheads and land on one of their flight decks—boom.”

  “That takes care of one ship. What do you plan to do about the rest? Plus, if they follow a similar protocol as Delta Vega, they are taking captives on board the warships. Human shields.”

  Slade grimaced. “Talk to the Decluvian. What’s his name? Lu?”

  Walker nodded.

  “See if there are any weaknesses that can be exploited in the Decluvian fleet. In the meantime, I want a recon team to give me eyes on New Earth.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then, I guess, I’m going to see if I can create an alliance. What have we got to lose, right?” Slade shrugged. “I’ll take a shuttle and make contact. Violet can act as liaison. If all goes well, I’ll return with an armada.” Slade flashed a hopeful smile.

  Walker’s face tightened with concern. “I’m going with you.”

  “No, you’re not. I need you here to keep things under control—just in case Rourke has supporters, as you mentioned.” She could see the worry in his eyes. “Relax. I’ll be fine. Plus, you owe me a date on Zeta Hydrus. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.” A grin curled on her full lips, and her sultry eyes sparkled.

  Walker’s face eased a little. “Trust me, I won’t let you forget.”

  Slade grabbed a handset from the bulkhead and contacted the CIC. She gave the order for a recon patrol to scout New Earth. It was time to see just how bad things really were.

  11

  New Earth

  “You almost got us killed,” a boy said. He was hiding in a corner, under a desk.

  Presley’s face twisted up, perplexed. “What?”

  “You could have gotten me killed. I’m just hiding here, minding my own business, and you come running in. You’re lucky they didn’t see you. We’d both be dead.”

  “Excuse me. I’m sorry. I had no idea this was your space.” Her tone was flippant. She peered over the ledge, taking in a view of the street. The Decluvian soldiers had passed. She stood up and stepped through the rubble toward another hole in the wall that led to the street.

  “Where you going?”

  “I’m leaving. You should be happy about that.” Presley peered around the corner. The Avenue looked clear. She stepped onto the sidewalk and continued toward Midtown. She weaved down the sidewalk hopping over glass and debris.

  The boy chased after her. “Hey, wait up.”

  Presley didn’t slow down.

  “You’re going the wrong way.”

  She kept ignoring him.

  He caught up to her and grabbed her arm. She jerked away.

  “You’re heading back into the thick of it. I just came from that way,” he said.

  He was a skinny kid with brown shaggy hair that fell into his eyes. Presley didn’t really get a good look at him back in the building. He had been hiding in the shadows. He couldn’t have been any more than 17 or 18, she thought. He was covered in dust and debris, and his clothes looked a little tattered.

  “I’ve got to get to the museum.”

  “I don’t think now is the time to appreciate the intricacies of modern art.”

  “My little brother’s there on a field trip.” Presley didn’t slow down. She kept marching down the sidewalk.

  The boy did his best to keep up. But he was reluctant to keep moving in that direction. “I don’t think you fully understand how bad it is down that way. I’m lucky I’ve made it this far. I’m certainly not going back there.”

  “Nobody is asking you to.”

  “You can’t just go back there by yourself.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you.”

  “Okay. Fine. Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He stopped on the sidewalk and watched her strut away. He glanced around, looking to see if they were in any immediate danger. The streets were clear, for now.

  Presley was cute. She’d make any teenage boy’s heartbeat a little faster. He grimaced and ran back after her.

  “What are you doing?” Presley asked, incredulous.

  “The next few blocks are really dangerous. I’m just going to make sure you’re okay, then I’m heading out of town.”

  Presley was used to boys hover
ing around her. She could see right through his attempt to be macho. “Well, if it gets too scary for you, you can leave at any time.”

  “Are you always this friendly?”

  Presley scowled at him. “You’re a complete stranger following me through the streets of the city. You could be a psychopath, for all I know.”

  “I don’t think I’m the one you need to worry about right now.”

  “I guess you look harmless.”

  The boy’s face crinkled up. He puffed his chest out. “I’m not harmless. I’m very dangerous.”

  Presley arched an eyebrow at him. “What’s your name, Mr. Dangerous?”

  “I’m Levi.” He held out his hand.

  “Presley.” She shook his hand. “Let’s get one thing straight here. I’m in charge. Our mission objective is to find my mom and rescue my little brother. All other considerations are secondary. You will follow my orders without question. Is that clear?”

  Levi raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

  “Nobody’s asking you to follow along.”

  “You don’t have many friends, do you?”

  Presley clinched her jaw. “I have plenty friends, thank you very much. Or, at least I used to.” Her face grew sullen. There was no telling how many of her friends and classmates had already been killed in the invasion. But she didn’t have the luxury of becoming sad or depressed, or mourning over their loss. She needed to stay focused.

  “Sorry. I’m a little stressed,” she said.

  “Well, you’re not going to get very far without a good pair of shoes. Come on.” Levi took off down the street.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Kemp & Rogers is just around the corner. Let’s go shopping.”

  Presley glanced around and followed him across the street. They zigged and zagged a few blocks over to the once luxurious department store. The display windows were broken out. Mangled mannequins were strewn about. Plastic heads, shredded torsos, broken arms, shattered legs.