Broken Halo
By Kindal Debenham
Broken Halo
by Kindal Debenham
© Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
Smashwords edition
Cover art James Curwen
To learn about upcoming titles follow us at www.wanderingleafpublishing.com
Acknowledgements
Once again I find myself in the fortunate position of having many people to thank for their contributions to this book.
My excellent copy editor, Tristi Pinkston, has once again done a excellent job in preparing this novel for publication. I have been consistently impressed by her professionalism and skill, and without her work this book would not have been anywhere close to the finished product it is today. Also, I was very lucky to have James Curwen once again produce the cover art for this novel. He did a wonderful job, and I am extremely grateful that I was able to rely on his talents a second time. Both of you have done great work for this novel, on very short notice, and I appreciate everything you’ve done. I hope that both of your careers continue to go well.
Again, the various members of my writing group deserve quite a bit of thanks. They are always willing to help me with an alpha read of my books, and without their critiques there is no way that I could have gotten this one done. Ailsa, Andy, and Megan, you are some of the best writing allies I could have, and I’m grateful for the chance to rely on your insight and advice.
As always, my family has been a constant source of inspiration and support. Caleb, Cassidy, Kaileen, you are the best siblings that a brother could ask for. Mom, Dad, you are wonderful parents, and you probably deserve a better son than you got. I hope that I can always count on you all for the love and acceptance that every writer needs, whether they are writing about crazy flying space mechs or not. Thanks.
Of course, I can never write one of these things without acknowledging the best source of support and encouragement in my life, my wife Emily. She’s stood by me through the good drafts and the bad, the frustrating edits and the flashes of inspiration. She’s my first test reader, the sounding board for some of my crazy ideas, and the one person I can always count on to read through a scene for me. Thank you for your help, Emily, I couldn’t have done this without you.
Sera, my daughter, gets her own special thanks, simply for cheering me up when times were hard. You’re the best daughter a man could hope to have, and you’ll only get better with time.
Finally, thanks to each of my friends for their help and support. I am lucky to have such good people in my life, and I’m nowhere near proud enough to think that I deserve it. Thank you for the opportunities you’ve given me, the doors you’ve opened, and the friendship you’ve given.
Dedication
To my daughter Seraphina, who has been a fierce dragon fighter and cuddler of puppies from the moment she was born. You’ve helped make my life worth living.
And to my son, Marcus Craig. You may have just arrived, but you are already more loved than anyone could possibly handle.
Chapter One
Gabriel Miller soared through the vastness of space. His Civilian Tactical Rig allowed him to feel the simulated rush of wind to mark his passing, but the distant stars and planets barely seemed to acknowledge his speed. He took a moment to enjoy the view of the universe, gliding along peacefully with the other three rig pilots of his patrol tucked in behind him, scanning for possible threats or dangers to the fleet. It was nice, after so much conflict, just to enjoy the quiet wonder of rig flight.
“Command to Angel-One. Do you read?”
Gabe grunted. So much for a peaceful, unobstructed flight. He cleared his throat, signaling the interface to open a channel to answer. With his best effort, he tried not to sound too annoyed. “Angel-One to Command. Is there a problem?”
“That depends on your point of view, Angel-One.” Susan Delacourt’s voice carried the barest hint of frustration, and Gabe smiled. Her sense of military decorum might still win out for the most part, but he managed to test the limits of her patience—just for old times’ sake, of course.
She continued. “You were supposed to meet me in the conference room half an hour ago.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, Command. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Derek was supposed to tell you I was on patrol.” Gabe left unsaid the fact that he’d pulled rank to be on the patrol in the first place. The schedule for the patrol flights had been planned out for weeks in advance, and he hadn’t known about the meeting with Susan until the day before. Luckily, the other pilots had been more than happy to let him and his flight take their spot. Unfortunately, the next time Susan set up a meeting, she would probably give him even less warning to make sure he couldn’t slip away, but that was a problem for later.
Susan sighed, plainly irritated. “Gabe, you cannot keep avoiding this issue. Your father needs our help.”
Gabe shook his head again. “And the fleet needs patrols. The RSRs keep telling us something’s out here after all. Besides, Dad can figure out the whole thing on his own. He is the Speaker, after all.”
He could picture her glare even when thousands of kilometers separated them. “Don’t fall back on that excuse with me, Captain Miller. He may be Speaker of the Way, but he’s still human. He can make mistakes.”
The tone in her voice made Gabe wince. There were some downsides to having a relationship with one’s commanding officer; she knew exactly which buttons to press to get back at him for frustrating her. “That doesn’t mean he’s making one this time. Look, the entire Council is behind the idea. It can’t be that bad.” His eyes swept the surrounding area, looking for something, anything that would give him a reason to change the subject.
Susan apparently had no intention of letting up. Her voice had taken on a half-patient, lecturing tone that had become far too familiar over the past few days. “Yes, Captain, it can. We can’t afford to stay in one place like this system much longer. To survive, we need to move further away from the Known Worlds, and we need to do it soon. You need to convince him of that.”
Before she could fully launch into the newest series of arguments, Gabe caught sight of something. It was the merest flicker of movement, but he narrowed his eyes to magnify his view. He felt a smile cross his lips—a false feeling, since his actual body was semi-comatose within the depths of the CTR. “Command, we can discuss things later. We have a contact to investigate.”
Susan didn’t answer for a moment. When she did respond, her voice had resumed its military tone. “Is it another visit from our mutual friends?”
Gabe shook his head. “Hard to say. I doubt it’s more mercenaries, but I’m still going after it. Put the standby squadron on alert. We can’t be sure if it’s hostile.”
Before she could order him back to base, Gabe switched channels to talk to the other three rigs in his flight. “Angel-One to Flight. I have a contact at three-nine-four. Might be a hostile.” Something flickered across his view again, and he grunted in frustration. Whatever it was had been moving fast. “Anybody else see it?”
Earline, in Angel-Four, answered immediately. “I’ve got something that direction too. It’s fast. Can’t get a solid read on it.”
Allen, in Angel-Two, grunted. “I’m trying a broad spectrum laser scan. Maybe I’ll get a ping.”
Gabe glanced at his wingman. A scan would reveal Allen’s location and make him an easy target. It was a risky move, but the Lord knew how many dangerous calls they’d already had to make. Perhaps a little risk this time would finally give them a better idea of what was out there. “Go for it, Two. Angel Flight, form up and prepare for evasion or pursuit.”
The other rigs slid into position, their countermeasures ready
to intercept incoming missiles. Allen began his scan, probing the space ahead with flashes of light. After a few long moments, the other pilot sighed. “I’m getting nothing. Maybe it’s just—”
Whatever Allen had been about to suggest, he immediately cut off with a yelp of surprise as the scan hit something. Either knowing its cover was blown or spooked by the close call, the thing Gabe had been looking for lit up its tetherdrive and finally revealed itself to his sensors.
It was a rig, though not from any manufacturer he’d ever heard of. In contrast to the CTR’s blocky, solid frame, the unknown craft looked slim, graceful, and smooth. Though both were humanoid, comparing the two would be like contrasting a crude broadsword with a fine rapier. The elegant turn the unknown rig made before boosting off for deep space only emphasized its grace, and Gabe felt his breath catch as the thing accelerated at a fantastic rate. He ignored the startled exclamations from the other rig pilots and spoke. “Angel Flight, pursue and intercept the unknown rig. Do not, repeat, do not engage. Weapons null.”
Charles, the pilot in Angel-Three, gave a half-incredulous laugh. “Fat chance of that anyway. Look at him go!”
Gabe pushed his tetherdrive for more acceleration to pursue, but Charles was right. The unknown rig was moving at a pace his CTR could never have matched. He focused his sensors on its fleeing form, trying to dredge up as much information from the brief contact as possible. His targeting computer began sorting and cataloguing the equipment built into the thing, but the target was already so far away that the sensors were having a hard time picking it out. When it finally faded from sight, Gabe shook his head. “Angel-One to Flight. I’ve lost contact. Anybody have him?”
“Negative, One. I lost him right about when you did.” Allen’s voice carried a recognizable feeling of disappointment. Gabe sighed. At least they had managed to get something. They’d done better than any of the other patrols so far.
“Three here. I don’t have him anymore either.”
Gabe cleared his throat. “That’s all right, Three. He was pretty fast.” He paused and glanced to where Earline’s rig flew in their formation. “Four, you see anything?”
There was a moment of silence before Earline responded. Her voice was hushed, as if she was trying to whisper. “Lead, I’m picking up new contacts.”
The uncertainty in her voice brought Gabe’s heart rate up. He glanced around, trying to catch sight of whatever had his flight mate spooked. “Where are they, Four? How many are we talking about?”
“All around us, Lead. There’s got to be three … no, wait, maybe four?”
Charles broke in, his voice heavy with disbelief. “Angel-Three to Flight. I’m not seeing anything. Are you sure about this?”
“Of course I’m sure. You think I would just make this up?”
“Angel-Two, I’m seeing them too.” Allen drifted a bit closer to Gabe’s rig and gestured with his rifle.
Gabe followed his wingman’s line of sight and caught a telltale flicker of movement some distance away. He glanced around and found movement at the same distance in the opposite direction. A chill crept down his spine, and he carefully brought his rifle up. “Angel-One to Flight. Reverse acceleration. Let’s try to head back to the Concord.”
The other pilots complied with his orders, and the four CTRs crept to a halt. Those same flickers of movement continued on the periphery of his sensor range, and Gabe could have sworn the unknown contacts were getting more numerous. They appeared and disappeared all around them, barely registering enough to let Gabe know they were there. He frowned as his rigs began to backpedal, accelerating away from the ambush—if that’s what the circle of unknown contacts actually was. Did the other rigs know they had been spotted? Would they try something now that his flight was retreating?
Regardless of the answer to the first question, the answer to the second appeared to be a no. As the four CTRs retreated, the contacts followed them, flickering around them as his pilots ran. Gabe gritted his teeth as the unknown signals grew closer, but then they slowly began to fade away. Fewer contacts appeared at the edge of his sensors until finally there was only one left, flickering right where the unknown rig had been spotted originally.
Gabe stared at that flickering motion, his mind working at the problem. He slowed, eventually bringing his rig to a stop. The others continued back toward the fleet, though Allen abruptly slowed as well. “Angel-Two to Lead. What are you doing?”
“Just giving our visitors a chance to come a bit closer, Two. The rest of you stand clear. I’ve got this.” Gabe shifted slightly to glance back over his shoulder. Allen hesitated a few moments more, and then he turned to follow the other two rigs back toward the carrier.
Alone, Gabe fingered his rifle and waited. He didn’t know exactly how many contacts were out there, but he did know that the CTR gave him an edge in combat. His unknown visitors might have an advantage in speed, but he didn’t think there could be that much weaponry or armor on them—building that much speed into a rig had to cost them in terms of the guns they could fit in, and the CTR could outshoot them when they came into range. He tried to convince himself that he had no reason to be nervous as the others fell back.
“Command to Angel-One. Why aren’t you returning with the others?”
Gabe grunted. “Angel-One to Command. I’ve still got an unknown contact on my sensors. I’m getting the feeling they might want to talk.” Another possibility occurred to him, and he tightened his grip on his rifle again. “Or they might follow us back to the fleet. Scramble a few RSRs and send them out here. Until they get to my position, I’ll make sure they don’t get too curious.”
Susan’s voice came back immediately. “Angel-One, you’re placing yourself at considerable risk. Are you sure about this?”
The worry in her voice was comforting, though Gabe wished she didn’t hide it so well beneath her professionalism. He tried to sound unconcerned. “Absolutely, Command. I’m all right. They aren’t coming any closer.” As if to prove him wrong, the contact began to flicker more rapidly, as if trying to figure out a way to dart around him to follow the others. “Hold on a moment, Command. This could get interesting.”
Before Susan could reply, the unknown abruptly dove to Gabe’s left, flashing toward an intercept with the rest of the flight. Gabe threw his tetherdrive into maximum acceleration, hurling himself on a course that would cut the other rig off. He was rewarded with a brief moment of sensor contact with his opponent, which his targeting computer dutifully logged before the other rig jerked to a halt and retreated out of range.
Gabe settled into position between the unknown rig and his flight again, watching the other pilot’s movement carefully. A second move like that and the thing might slip past him; he had to be ready. As the rest of the flight began to reach the edge of his sensor range, he realized that unless the unknown rig sported a much better sensor suite, they would probably lose sight of his companions before long. Which meant that the next move would probably come soon …
He barely had the thought before the unknown went vertical, trying to climb over him and onto his flight mates’ tails again. Gabe backed up as quickly as he could, climbing a bit to keep himself between the other Angels and his opponent. The unknown rig responded with a sharp twist to the left, apparently trying to dodge out of Gabe’s sensor range before dropping back into pursuit. He countered the move by diving after the contact, pushing his rig to its limits. Then he cleared his throat once more. “Angel-One to Concord. Lots of maneuvering here. Are you seeing any of this?”
“Negative, Angel-One. Still out of sensor range.”
Gabe swallowed a curse. Unlike his rig, full-scale warships had enough shielding to turn aside plasma bursts and tear missiles to shreds. Unfortunately, that same shielding reduced their sensors to near uselessness at long range. “Confirmed, Command. Do you still have my position fixed?”
Susan answered with a calm Gabe wished he could feel himself. “That’s affirmative, Angel-One. Eyes-One
, -Two, and -Five are on their way. They should be there in just a few minutes. Hold on.”
The contact twisted again, now trying to crawl below the CTR. Gabe flipped his rig and dove hard, just barely keeping his opponent from slipping by. “Easier said than done, Command. Tell those bug riders to hurry it up.” It was probably not the right time to taunt the RSR pilots about their rigs’ insect-like appearance, but Gabe had other things to worry about. His CTR was no longer able to keep up with his opponent’s wild maneuvers; the unknown rig was starting to worm its way past him. The only reason it hadn’t run past him already was the fact that it seemed reluctant to let his sensors get a clear picture of it. He fought to keep contact, to force it to change course in order to stay outside his sensor range, but the other rig was too fast and too slippery to hold on to.
In the end, he wound up chasing after it as it finally slid by. Gabe whispered a prayer and threw every bit of acceleration he had into the pursuit, hoping the Lord would let him catch up to his target.
Then the unknown stopped dead, and for one startling moment his opponent came fully into view. The other rig was armed, unless the smooth oblong device in its grasp was some sort of camera. Its head was narrow and tall, and as it turned to look at him, the rig’s sensors lit up all along both sides. Gabe heard an alarm go off, a throb to let him know that he’d been pinged by some kind of laser system. He slowed his rig, bringing his own weapon to bear as he came to a relative halt.
When he had the other rig in his sights, Gabe realized that the other unknown contacts had reappeared behind him. He could see them moving at the edges of his sight, staying behind him but letting him know they were there. By contrast, Allen and the others were long out of range. Unless the RSRs showed up soon, he was completely surrounded and on his own.
The rig ahead of him turned to face him. It drifted a bit closer, its unfamiliar weapon shifting in its grasp. There was a burst of static along Gabe’s communication lines, filling his ears with unpleasant white noise. He shook his head and retreated a bit. “What? Command, was that you?”
Broken Halo (Wayfarers) Page 1
