“No, that’s not possible,” he said to himself.
“Liam!” Saturn yelled to the ship.
The Garuda’s wings expanded all on their own and a brilliant crimson light shot out from the conduits of Aether in all directions, a furious shockwave, red as blood and frightening as anything Nix had yet seen. More than the light, it was the scream that scared him. A union of beast and man, the agony in its suffering yet commanding voice palpable.
The enemy ships slowed to a dead stop along with The Kasha. Only The Garuda and Death Wish’s vessel still moved, the latter firing a misplaced laser before retreating toward the planet’s surface.
“What was that?” Ju-Long asked.
“I have no idea,” Nix admitted, dumbstruck.
34
Misra slammed his fist down on the console and swore. He’d nearly forgotten how much he hated The Garuda. It wasn’t enough to be the king of all beasts, it had to rub everyone’s nose in it too. He hated being a sitting duck in his own ship. Though it looked like that Nix fellow was the real deal after all. He opened a channel.
“Very good. Now, you mind taking them out while they’re stunned?”
Nix eyed him strangely.
“Do you know what just happened?” Nix asked, then after a second thought continued, “And they’re Corsairs, we should salvage them if possible.”
“Corsairs from another dimension. We don’t know what they’re capable of, but it’s clear they serve your mercenary friend.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Saturn said from behind the Dinari, “We’re locked out. Liam might be able to fix it but we can’t communicate with him.”
“Who the hell’s Liam?”
Nix frowned and said, “Our former captain. After Death Wish—well, he undertook The Union.”
Misra’s jaw dropped beneath his wrappings. To the others it must have simply looked like a ruffle of the black rags. Someone else went through the unification process. For years Misra had watched as Animus grew more and more jaded with his imprisonment. It was not a fate he’d wish on anyone. Well, maybe someone. Someone who was asking for it. Misra could think of seldom few.
It was no matter. If The Garuda wasn’t willing or able to do what was necessary, Misra would have to get it done.
“You keep that beast of yours under control,” he said, “I’ll take care of this.”
Misra cut the channel before Nix or the others could respond. He looked to Reznik and pointed to the main gun’s controls.
“I want a full spread, no room for error.”
The robot’s mouth opened and the speakers within crackled.
“You mean...”
“Destroy them.”
Misra could hear the bot’s inner workings jostle around, gears turning harder and its eye sockets lighting up a brighter yellow than before.
“KILL!”
•
A dazzling golden light traversed the dead of space. Death Wish looked on in horror as the remaining four Corsairs were gutted clean through, the remnants of The Kasha’s energy beam remaining on the edges of each belligerent incision. Its power shocked her. The information she’d been given didn’t came close to the destructive power of those two, elusive Corsairs. The Kasha from her timeline wasn’t so formidable, and The Garuda was as big a mystery as ever, existing nowhere else.
“How did The Garuda do that?” Liam asked her.
“The Garuda was an inter-dimensional being, there was only ever one. There was no way to predict this. I suggest we fall back.”
After taking a few seconds to consider Sestra, Liam reluctantly nodded.
“Put us down where we released the others. Recalibrate the device.”
“Of course, Master.”
•
Saturn’s mouth opened, words beginning to form and then dissipating into her subconscious before she could release them.
“So that’s what it looks like from this angle,” Ju-Long said in wonder, breaking Saturn’s daze.
The beast within grumbled angrily beneath Saturn’s feet. She felt the bulkheads whine.
“Look,” Astrid said, pointing off their starboard side, “Death Wish is entering the planet’s atmosphere.”
“Pursue him,” Nix said.
Astrid attempted to guide the ship back toward Rumani but the controls were still locked out. She slammed her fist down on the console.
“It’s no good, it won’t respond.”
Saturn pushed the arm suspending her console and her screen moved aside. She stood and approached the center dashboard, eyeing the controls around it, unsure exactly what she planned to do.
“Misra has broken off toward Rumani too,” Nix said, eyes locked on the star charts floating above the dash.
“Hail him,” Saturn said frantically.
The star charts were replaced by Misra’s wrapped-up face. His voice was marked by his distinctive grumbling.
“What?”
Saturn leaned over the console toward Misra’s image.
“Our ship still won’t respond.”
“Don’t even know your own ship?” Misra growled.
“I know her just fine,” Nix protested, “But she’s never done this. Not for so long anyway.”
Saturn saw Misra’s head shake beneath the wrappings, rustling them back and forth.
“Talk to the Aether, sometimes it just needs some encouragement.”
“What does that mean?” Astrid asked.
“Now,” Misra continued, “If you all don’t mind, I have a score to settle.”
Misra cut the channel, as was starting to become routine.
“What did he mean, talk to the Aether?” Nix asked.
“Things are about to get weird again, aren’t they?” Ju-Long said with a sigh.
“Hold on,” Saturn began, thinking the situation through as she talked, “Nix, are there any physical controls for the Aether flow from the engine to the cockpit?”
Nix pointed to two switches near the back of the console, off on their own from the fifty or so other buttons and indicators.
“Those act as compressors. I flipped one of them out of curiosity once and nearly blew half the console.”
“Have you ever flipped them both?”
“Well, no, but it doesn’t seem like something we should try for the first time in space. If something were to go wrong—”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll go splat,” Saturn said before reaching over the dash and flipping both of the switches simultaneously.
For a moment nothing happened. Saturn gazed up at the Aether flowing through the conduits overhead in anticipation. It still streamed crimson but the pace had slowed since the shockwave.
“Maybe they didn’t do anything,” Nix suggested, “Some sort of counterbalance.”
The Aether’s pace quickened, almost imperceptibly at first, and then grew to a vicious surge. The pressure on the conduit was massive, threatening to blow at any moment. What was once a dull whisper evolved into a gushing torrent, clamoring for escape. Floor grates shook with a roar emanating from deep within the ship. The holographic star charts whistled and faded, replaced by an orange blob, slowly growing features, morphing into the head and shoulders of a man.
His long hair came across as a lighter shade of the auburn hue, the long scar over his right cheek far darker, nearly black. The man’s head was bowed and eyes closed tight as though resigned to weather a terrible storm. From the edge of the frame came a hand which rested on his temple, rubbing in a slow circle to alleviate tension. The man opened his mouth and stretched out his jaw muscles.
“Liam,” Saturn whispered, eyes straining from being opened so wide.
“Gods,” Nix said to himself while running a single claw from his forehead to his chin in a ritualistic motion Saturn had never before seen him make.
Liam’s eyes opened and he gazed upon the crew.
“Saturn,” he said at last.
“I’m here.”
Liam’s eyes conveyed a profound sa
dness.
“I can’t control her,” he said, looking anxiously over his shoulder, “There’s not much time.”
Nix rose and stood close to the projection.
“Liam, if we’re going to get Death Wish we need control of the ship.”
“She’s angry. She could sense their pain.”
Saturn asked, “How is she connected to the other ships? How did she stop them?”
“Every beast, every dimension; they are her subjects.”
“Liam,” Nix began, “I need to you fight. You’re the only one she might heed.”
Liam’s image started to fade before he could answer, dissipating into the emptiness from which it came.
“How do you reason with such a creature?” Astrid asked the others.
“Offer her vengeance,” Ju-Long suggested.
35
The Kasha shook as it broke through Rumani’s thermosphere. Misra made a slight adjustment and followed the Ansaran vessel’s power signature. Not long after, the shaking abated and Misra began to level off the ship. He brought up a map of Rumani and zoomed in on his current location. The other vessel had landed in a dense forest near the base of one of the staggering mountains.
Reznik sat awkwardly in the co-pilot’s chair, its squat legs not even close to touching the ground, and watched with its head half-cocked to one side. Though it wasn’t Misra’s initial intention, Reznik sometimes looked like a child. If not for a program based mostly on violence and the veritable arsenal hiding in its chest cavity, Misra might understand how someone could see it that way. However, he’d seen that robot kill more men than half of the members of the Order of Katala.
“Will we pursue on foot?” Reznik inquired.
Misra nodded toward the cargo bay.
“Head back to the armory and prep our gear. It’s time for a hunt.”
“May I—BURN—bring my weapon of choice, sir?
“Knock yourself out.”
Reznik’s legs extended and it slithered down to the floor. Its feet clamped into the grates with each step and its eyes glowed with a wild fervor. Perhaps he was giving it too much autonomy, Misra thought. It was, of course, going to choose the flamethrower, which might not be the best choice in such a dense forest.
“Not the flamethrower,” Misra called over his shoulder.
The robot deflated, hunching over with despair, and then quietly sulked away.
Misra guided The Kasha down toward a clearing just wide enough for the ship to fit comfortably with its wings folded. He extended the landing gear and fired the thrusters to control the descent. As the ship was in its final approach, Reznik clanked its way back into the cockpit, wielding a weapon easily three times its size.
“How about this one, sir?”
Misra half turned his head to look at it. His eyes widened and his face contorted with a mix of anger and fear.
“The Deathcaster? Are you crazy? Put that thing away. We’re going for precision, not annihilation.”
Reznik’s gaze alternated between the giant weapon and its creator several times.
“Oh, right. One moment.”
The robot stole away down the curving hallway toward the armory. Misra shook his head and focused on the final fifty meters of the descent. Out the cockpit window Misra watched as gigantic conifers began to obstruct his view of the mountains. The landing struts absorbed the weight of the ship as they cut into the long and wavy grass beneath The Kasha. Misra cut power to the engine and engaged the automated security protocols. Some might have called him paranoid, but after the things he’d seen there was no such thing as being too vigilant.
The distinctive clanks of his robot companion resounded off the walls again. It held up two sizeable but manageable weapons, black with an array of attachments along the rails of their barrels. Misra stood and nodded his approval.
“Ah, The Marauders. Precise and they pack a mean punch. Good choice.”
Reznik beamed, “Thank you, sir. Will you be using one—MURDER—or a different weapon?”
Misra picked up the long, blocky weapon slung at an angle behind his chair.
“Think I’ll stick with old reliable on this one.”
Reznik sat one of its weapons down and pulled out a drawer near the back of the cockpit. It reached in and pulled out a small laser pistol in a leather thigh holster. Reznik clanked over to Misra and offered it to him.
Misra waved his hand and draped the strap of his large weapon over one shoulder.
“What about the Rule of Two, sir?” Reznik asked earnestly.
Misra sighed and took the small gun from the robot before pushing past and making his way down the hallway toward the cargo bay. When he’d programmed the bot he had just narrowly escaped a gruesome demise at the hands of a Coressan Death Squad. The experience made him a bit cautious, to put it mildly. Misra had planned on several occasions to reprogram the robot, but the protocols he’d put in place had helped him out of more than a few scrapes. Now, annoying as it was, he often caved to the rules spouted by his creation. After all, they were his rules, only dogmatically parlayed by a robot half his size who’d killed more men than he could recall, even if he had a whole day to ponder.
The cargo bay was lean. With most of Misra’s money going toward armaments he sometimes neglected to stock as much food or other supplies. He grabbed his leather sack and strapped it to his back. Apart from a small amount of water and dried Arondak meat it only held an auxiliary power source for the big gun and an orb to light his path if it became dark. Misra found his copper bracer on top of a cargo crate and slipped it over his left wrist, its brackets clamping down on his forearm over the black cloth. All told he was packing light. After all, he didn’t expect to be on the surface that long. Misra never truly savored the hunt. He would rather skip to the good bits.
“How’s your charge?” Misra asked the bot following in his wake.
Reznik’s eyes flickered and it replied, “Eighty-nine percent.”
“Good enough,” Misra said, slamming his fist into the square red button which controlled the hydraulic ramp, “Let’s move.”
36
“Should it have taken this long?” Saturn asked, rubbing a hand through her shoulder-length, sweaty hair.
Nix ceased rubbing his forehead and shook his head.
“There’s no way to know for sure. I’m still wrapping my mind around everything that’s happened.”
The cockpit was silent, the consoles blank and the only indicators illuminated on the dash the ones for life support and power to the ship. When floating around aimlessly in space, five minutes felt like hours. Nix nervously tapped his claws against one leg, trying hard not to count the seconds and failing. Misra knew more than he let on and that bothered Nix to his core. He knew they could talk to Liam through the Aether and he might know more about The Garuda than Nix. How was that possible?
“What if we did a hard reboot?” Ju-Long asked. “It’s IT 101. We manually shut down all power to the ship from the engine room and reset.”
“It might work, but if it doesn’t we could lose life support,” Astrid offered.
Saturn limped down the aisle through the center of the cockpit, stopping after a moment at the fifth seat. She examined its freshly sewn leather upholstery, not yet cracked like the others.
“Give him another minute.”
Nix rested his head against his seat and stared up at the clear conduit running the perimeter of the cockpit. The Aether within alternated between purple and red, casting down a strange mix of light onto the faces of the anxious crew. The tumultuous flow was as a waterfall foaming where the water crashed into the rocks, bubbling with some hidden fury. What was going on in there, Nix wondered.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nix saw a yellow indicator flicker on the far side of the dash before returning to its dormant state. Nix leaned forward, eyes locked on the spot, waiting for the glimmer to reappear.
“Did you see it?” Nix asked the others.
Astrid was al
so staring, a twinkle of hope coming over her face. Ju-Long craned his neck to see what the fuss was about.
“What?” Saturn asked, moving between the pilot and co-pilot’s seats. “What did you see?”
“Wait,” Nix said.
Another indicator flickered, followed quickly by two more. Soon, there were multi-colored lights flashing all over the cockpit. The Aether overhead spun a deep crimson, vehemently spiraling around the conduits. The holographic emitters sputtered to life. Before the image had manifested, a terrible scream rang out, resounding off the bulkheads and assaulting Nix’s ears. He quickly covered the flat nubs with his palms and gawked at the scene with his oversized golden orbs. The hologram congealed into an image of Liam, eyes clenched shut and hands nearly pulling out his thick blond hair. In the background Nix could hear the terrible screech of the Garuda.
“Liam!” Saturn shouted over the din.
The engines hummed to life and the flashing indicators stabilized. One by one the consoles came back into the crew’s control.
Liam’s grip on his hair loosened and his eyes eased open, burning with a reddish glow. His chest rose and fell in quick succession, sweat rolling down his pale face. The deep scar running vertically along the length of the right side of his face had a new friend, this one adorning his left cheek centimeters from his eye.
“What happened?” Nix asked.
Liam took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“We’re ready.”
37
Misra crept up a steep trail, weaving in and out of the densely-packed tree trunks. They might have provided him cover, but they were also a nuisance when trying to track a mark. Misra examined the readout on his bracer, the copper lines surrounding the screen scratched from years of abuse and standing in steep contrast to his black wrappings. The small screen showed an energy signature emanating from one kilometer due west of his position. He heard a pinecone crackle and quickly turned his head in the direction of the sound.
The Lost Corsair (The Corsair Uprising Space Opera Series Book 4) Page 14
