The Lost Corsair (The Corsair Uprising Space Opera Series Book 4)

by Trevor Schmidt

  “Quiet,” he whispered to his companion.

  Reznik carefully removed its foot from the cone and placed it slightly to the right on packed soil. Misra shook his head and pointed to the west, raising his index finger to signify the target was one kilometer away. He continued up the hill to the top of the ridge, where massive tree roots emerged from the soil and then snaked back into the ground, creating an intricate pattern and making their trek all the more difficult.

  Misra looked back to check on the robot. Reznik’s foot had become tangled in the roots and it was doing its best to remove it. When its efforts failed, it pointed one of its lasers at the surrounding root and fired before Misra could think to object. A thin trail of black smoke rose up from the root.

  “What are you doing?” Misra seethed a moment later, “I thought I programmed you with a stealth mode.”

  “Apologies, sir,” Reznik said while removing its foot from beneath the smoldering branch.

  Reznik stamped out the tiny flames. Misra watched as the black smoke dissipated into the air before reaching the top of the trees. He breathed a small sigh of relief.

  “Just—try and keep up,” Misra relented.

  Shaking his head, he turned and climbed the rest of the way up the hill, using the thick roots as handholds. Another pinecone crackled as something heavy crushed it.

  “Damn it, Reznik,” Misra said as his head spun toward the robot’s last position.

  “Sir?” Reznik said from off to Misra’s left.

  Misra hadn’t even heard it as it had moved up the ridge. It seemed as though that stealth mode worked after all. But if Reznik was over there, then what—Misra’s thoughts trailed off in his head as he squinted off into the dense forest in search of movement. He caught a hint of bright red rustling behind one of the trunks.

  “What is it?” Reznik asked in its quietest, yet still substantial, voice.

  Misra raised his large rifle and gazed through the scope. After a moment he lowered it again. He looked to Reznik and shrugged.

  “I don’t know, some kind of lizard? We should keep moving.”

  Misra began to turn when Reznik shouted, “Sir!”

  Misra’s eyes were drawn upward to the three-meter tall arachnid standing so close to him that he could feel the creature’s hot breath on his face. Its bright red body was smooth and hairless, adorned only with the occasional black swirl. Each leg was the size of his torso at its thickest point and bore down into the ground like a needle. It had a triangular-shaped face with dozens of eyes, each stark black and focused in his direction. Misra felt his jaw drop even as his grip on his weapon tightened.

  Two thin blue lasers cut through one of its legs before Misra could react, its creamy yellow blood dripping from the wound. The arachnid bellowed a horrible screech and turned its attention to Reznik. Misra took the opportunity to raise his rifle and fire. The large weapon spewed a hailstorm of blue lasers, each cutting through the beast as it staggered backward into a colossal tree trunk. The recoil forced Misra to brace against the shoulder stock, though he kept firing long after he was certain it was dead. The lasers continued to pierce its body and cut through the tree behind it until he heard a large crack and saw the conifer begin to fall off to his left. It seemed to take a full minute for the tree to fall, though Misra might have been caught up in the moment. Before it reached the ground, the limbs of several other trees broke its fall, slowing its descent. When the scene had settled, orange and yellow guts covered the root-infested ground and the nearby trees and pinecones continued to fall in spades.

  “KILL,” Reznik’s mechanical voice said, raising its twin lasers into the air in celebration.

  Misra held up his rifle and spun in a slow circle, ignoring his jubilant creation. He listened carefully to the sway of the leaves in the wind. A full minute passed. Another crackle perked his ears over the sounds of the forest. A strong wind blew a flurry of pine needles across his field of view, swirling and spiraling as they made their final tumble to the ground.

  “There’s more of them,” Misra said to his companion.

  Reznik scanned the immediate area and asked, “Where?”

  Misra pointed to the west.

  “Move,” he ordered.

  Misra ran along the top of the ridge westward toward the energy signature. Bright flashes of red occasionally flickered between the trees, the green foliage doing little to camouflage the presence of the creatures. Reznik extended its legs so it was more than two meters tall, its strides lengthening and pace quickening.

  One of the gargantuan arachnids appeared off to Misra’s left. He didn’t stop, raising his weapon and spraying it with multiple laser blasts as he strafed behind a tree. The creature screeched and dug its needle-like appendages into the soil, trying to remain upright. Soon it let out one final squeal before curling into a ball on its back, legs bent inward at extreme angles.

  The large weapon was becoming a burden on Misra as he continued to run. Off to his right he saw Reznik take out two more of the crimson monsters with its twin blue lasers. If he’d had any breath left to his name, he might have given his creation some congratulations. Four down, Misra thought. How many could there be?

  The winding path he now trod was less encumbered by rogue branches and roots, allowing him to see farther down the path.

  “This way,” Misra huffed.

  He was never built for distance running. Misra was more of a short-burst-of-speed kind of guy. He could be quick, but running with even light gear uphill while avoiding a multitude of monsters wasn’t his idea of a party. Then again, he wasn’t the sort of guy who liked parties, either.

  One of the red monstrosities come out from behind a large tree trunk, blocking his path and rearing up to show its intimidating size. Misra sprayed another volley of lasers and it screeched as orange and yellow guts went flying in all directions, including Misra’s formerly black wrappings.

  “Watch out,” Reznik called.

  Misra felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder, tearing through muscle and pushing aside bone. He looked down and saw the needle-like red spike protruding out the front of the right side of his chest, covered in his blood but surprisingly no different in color. He gasped and felt his weapon slide to the forest floor.

  A torrent of laser beams lit up the shaded trees, the light reflecting off their wide trunks. Misra felt the appendage lose the force which had held him up and he collapsed to his knees. His back was wet with what he assumed was an unruly amount of soupy arachnid innards. Moments later, Reznik appeared at his side, contracting down to its normal size again.

  “Pull it out,” Misra said, his voice as stable as he could muster.

  “Sir, I feel apt to inform you that the medical texts in my database suggest we should leave it in for now.”

  “Pull it out!”

  Without missing a beat, the robot pulled the arachnid’s appendage from Misra’s back. The pain was delayed a second, which gave Misra enough time to curse himself for inputting a master override into Reznik’s programming. The robot was literally incapable of refusing Misra in times of crisis, sometimes to Misra’s disadvantage.

  “Fill it,” Misra yelled, instantly regretting his decision to pull out the appendage.

  Reznik picked up its weapons and turned to its left, firing its twin lasers at another arachnid until it fell unceremoniously to the ground. It then dropped The Marauder in its right hand and held its fingers up. What would have been its index finger flipped open and it shoved the hollow cylinder into Misra’s wound. An off-white liquid shot out of its fingertip, expanding and hardening in seconds. Reznik patched the exit wound and returned its attention to its lasers, rising up to its full height and spraying a salvo in the direction of a faraway trunk.

  “DIE,” it said over the sound of trees cracking and falling.

  There was no chance of subtlety now, Misra thought.

  38

  Death Wish slammed her fist against her console, swearing loudly. They’d destr
oyed all of the Corsairs and there were energy discharges growing closer every minute. Two dozen Spinners may not have been enough to delay them. If she’d had more time she could have prepared to transport more of them.

  “How long?” Master Liam asked her, clearly annoyed.

  Sestra shook her head and balled her fists in frustration.

  “Five more minutes. If we leave without proper calibration, we could end up in the middle of a planet.”

  To her surprise, Liam retained his cool. He stopped his pacing and approached her.

  “I’ll hold them off,” he said gently.

  “Master, you’re too important. Let me do this for you.”

  “Sestra—”

  Liam tilted his head and regarded her with something akin to pity.

  “She’ll be with them,” Sestra warned.

  Liam lowered his head, his eyelids closing momentarily while he considered her words.

  “You never told me what this version of her is like.”

  “I doubt there is a universe where she is less headstrong.”

  Liam’s lip curled up into a smile.

  “She was always strong. Right ‘til the last.”

  In Sestra’s realm, Saturn was as loyal a servant to Vesta Corporation as there ever was. She executed her mission dutifully and had Sestra’s utmost respect. That is, until one day. Saturn and Liam had always had an unbreakable bond, but then, that bond had never before posed a threat to the mission...

  Sestra nodded and replied, “Until the last.”

  “It may be quicker than we planned, but it’s time I revealed myself to her. If she would join us, she could prove an invaluable asset for Vesta.”

  “Invaluable, yes,” Sestra confirmed with a wooden tone.

  “Finish the calibrations. Be ready to engage on my command.”

  Liam opened the side airlock and disappeared out the door. Sestra’s eyes hung there a moment, considering her master’s words. Perhaps she should have killed Saturn when she had the chance, she thought. How many versions of her did she have to kill before she and her master could be together?

  •

  “Perhaps we should have approached by air, sir.”

  Misra dragged his large rifle along behind him as he and Reznik hit the edge of the tree line. Death Wish’s sleek ship had landed on a flat patch of rocky mountainside, trees sparsely popping out of the ground and shooting into the sky, obstructing their view. The mighty girth of one of the conifers blocked his sight of the rest of the ship, but he could still see the purple energy coalescing near the nose. Every so often a small shockwave would emanate from the tip and then recede once more.

  “Not possible,” Misra finally replied, “I need answers only the mercenary can provide. I need him alive.”

  Misra flexed his shoulder, rotating it gingerly backward and forward. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind, that was going to leave a nifty scar. He turned his head and checked the path behind them. A trail of vermilion bodies lined the trail, sometimes stacked two high where the arachnids had tried climbing over one another to reach them. There had been silence for several minutes.

  “Keep watching our flank,” Misra ordered the robot, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Reznik nodded and turned, raising its twin lasers up and rotating on occasion to assess the danger. Misra saw its eyes dissolve into a cool blue as it entered its surveillance mode.

  Misra propped his weapon against a pile of rocks nuzzled into the base of a thick tree, using only his left hand where possible to get it in position. He kneeled down and lifted the rifle to his good shoulder. Squinting, he gazed through the scope with his non-dominant left eye.

  The Ansaran vessel was still about a hundred meters away but through his scope it appeared as though he could reach out and touch it. A hooded figure exited the craft’s side airlock, his only weapon a small laser pistol attached to his hip. The man looked to the sky expectantly and lowered his hood. Misra blinked several times in quick succession.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  39

  Liam calmly watched the ship approach. Its distinctive curved underbelly and the hum of its whirring engines sparked a deep nostalgia in the center of his gut. The asymmetrical vessel’s cockpit was nearly centered, but slightly off almost as a statement by the builders rather than for any functional reason. Not quite the hodgepodge of metal the Kraven fleet was, the Corsairs did borrow enough from standard Dinari cargo ship design to fly unnoticed to all but one with a trained eye or ear.

  He felt a gust of wind blow his long blond hair away from his cheek. Liam’s hand drifted down to the laser pistol dangling below his hip. A hatch opened on the vessel’s underbelly and a laser cannon descended, moving about methodically until it was aimed in his direction. Liam’s heartrate quickened but his feet remained firmly planted as he stared down the ship. A strong wind blew and Liam could hear the tall trees waving in the background. The Corsair fired reverse thrusters and hung there, suspended by its powerful engines and a veritable arsenal of death-dealing armaments threatening to fire at any moment.

  Liam gave them a toothy grin. Through the dark glass he saw her, as beautiful a version of her as he’d ever had occasion to see. This would be the one, he thought. She would finally be the one who could replace her.

  •

  Saturn stared at the impossible. Even in her wildest fantasies he was never brought back so whole, so perfect. At first she thought he was a hologram, a trick of the light. No hologram she’d ever seen was so rich with detail and nuance; so immaculately recreated. Even from afar his blue eyes peered into her.

  “It’s not him,” Nix told her, voice wavering.

  Ju-Long rose from his seat to get a better look. His eyes were filled with disbelief. Saturn didn’t blame him for that. What they were seeing could not have been real. And yet there he was, patiently staring them down without fear.

  “He doesn’t have any scars,” Ju-Long finally said.

  “How is this possible?” Astrid asked.

  Nix scowled and gripped the targeting controls, preparing to fire.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” he said, “But that’s not Liam.”

  Saturn faced him, regarding Nix with a horrified glare.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  Nix regarded her, incredulity lining his scaled face. Saturn could make out the fear and irascibility in the wrinkles around his eyes. In that moment it seemed he’d aged many years all at once, bearing the scars of time in his very aura.

  “I’m doing what we came here to do,” he said, turning back to the controls and taking aim.

  Saturn pulled her laser pistol from its holster and held it up to Nix’s temple. Her bottom lip quivered and she felt as though every muscle in her body were quaking with fear, rage, and countless other emotions too numerable to decipher. How had it come to this? she thought. Pointing a weapon at a friend was hardly her style.

  “What are you doing, Saturn?” Ju-Long asked.

  He backed toward his seat and moved one hand to the holster hanging near the wall. Before he could reach it, Saturn turned and fired her laser near Ju-Long’s hand, far enough away to do no damage to him but close enough to make him think twice. She positioned her laser against Nix’s head once more, barely a second passing between movements.

  “I won’t let you kill him,” Saturn told Nix, tears welling in her eyes, “I can’t let you.”

  “Take it easy,” Nix said, his grip on the controls loosening.

  Astrid zoomed in on Liam’s face on her console.

  “He’s saying something,” she told the crew.

  “Audio,” Saturn ordered, wiping her face and then quickly checking Ju-Long in her peripheral vision.

  Astrid complied, flipping the necessary switches and projecting the man’s voice throughout the cockpit.

  “I know this must be hard for you, Saturn,” Liam began, “But I assure you I can explain everything.”

  After a m
oment of silence, he continued, “In my universe, the Azure Key became a permanent bridge between Earth and Ansara. For decades there was peace and equality between Dinari, Ansarans, and Humans. Until the Kraven came.”

  Liam looked to the ground and rubbed his right eye. For a moment Saturn thought he was going to cry. The wind whipped his hair around and made him squint and use a hand to block it.

  He continued, “They took you from me. For years I’ve been searching for Vesta’s other devices, hoping one would bring you back to me. I only hope, in this universe at least, that one wrong can be set right.”

  Saturn regarded his image, searching for something in his eyes that would tell her it was all true. Her grip on the laser pistol tightened, her hand beginning to slip as her palms started to sweat. Saturn’s heartbeat thumped in her chest.

  “He’s lying, Saturn,” Nix said to her, his voice empathetic.

  Astrid rebutted, “It is possible that one of The Three could bridge dimensions.”

  Nix cautiously turned his head and gazed up at Saturn, a mix of pity and fear in his eyes.

  “That’s not our Liam. He never will be. Even if he came from another dimension, our Liam was made of his experiences. What you see out that window cannot be the same man.”

  Saturn considered Nix, and then turned her eyes toward a frightened Astrid, her soft blue features pale from the outside light.

  “Land the ship,” Saturn commanded.

  She began to back away, weapon alternating between Nix and Ju-Long as she did.

  “If he was after you, then why did he attack the ship with you inside?” Nix asked her.

  Saturn continued to back toward the curving corridor, rejecting whatever logic Nix threw her way. Her eyes flicked between the rest of the crew, anxiety building within her. Questions began to flood her mind despite herself. She stopped at the edge of the corridor, weapon still aimed in the crew’s direction.