by Nick Webb
If the entire Telestine fleet mobilized, this party was going to be over in a hurry. And the horrific loss of New Beginnings Station, the Washington, the Pele … Captain Brown and Captain Kim….
The cost they’d already paid was too high for them to fail now.
She signaled for the pilot to begin spinning up the engines.
“We’re on it, ma’am.” McAllister’s voice was steady through the commlink. “We’re signaling the shuttle, but he’s not reading us.”
“I know.” She cast a look at the earpiece and her eyes closed in pain for a moment. Pike, I am coming for you. Hold on. “Just do what you can to keep them off him.”
“All right che, I’m drawing them off.” Fighter seven peeled off from the group and shot through an approaching formation of feathers. They swerved away from him and regrouped, and he guided his ship up in an arc to shoot directly at the station. “Let’s see how you like this, fuggers.” His voice was a low mutter. “Everyone else, get them while they’re distracted.”
“Fisheye!” The call came from the CAG. “Back in formation!”
“With all due respect, che, it’s gotta be one of us.”
There was a pause.
“Then it’ll be me,” the CAG said simply. “Break off, Fisheye.”
“Oh, no,” King whispered. Her face had gone grey and her hand covered her mouth. “No, no.”
Walker shot her a look and shook her head. There could be no weakness from them now. The pilots could not hear any doubt, nor they could hear grief.
Nothing was important right now beyond the shuttle.
Pike had found ... well, something. She had spent her life trying not to be blinded by hope, but right now, Walker could not keep it from welling up in her chest. She bit her lip, felt the skin break, and bit down harder until she was sure she could speak steadily.
“Give us the view from fighter seven.”
The video feed was sudden and disorienting. The pilot—Dave “Fisheye” Hernandez, the screen read—had gone into a spin as he arrowed up toward the formation of Telestines. He was refusing to break off the attack, Walker saw now.
“Fisheye!”
“Gonna get my shot in, LT. And you have a life to build after this—I’m free as a bird, che. After this it would be back to Pluto, and that ain’t no life, boludo.”
Across the table, King’s eyes were bright with tears. Her eyes were fixed on the holograph of the other fighters, not the video feed from Fisheye.
There was no time to wonder about that now. Walker turned her gaze to the video. Bullets streaked away from Fisheye and one Telestine was blown sideways into another.
“Yes.” Delaney’s voice was soft. His fist pounded against the desk.
“Come on,” King whispered. Her lips pressed together, holding back a softer entreaty. Her head was half-turned; she wanted to look away from this. “Come on.”
The video feed jerked sideways and righted itself, but the ground was curving up slowly into the view.
“Shit!” Fisheye’s voice was frantic—and then furious. “Like hell I’m not taking a few more of you with me.” The video swerved to point straight down at the ground, and the ship gathered speed before the pilot must have yanked the yoke up, relying on aerodynamics and lift to right the fighter. With newfound speed, the ship arced up into the sky and the single working engine spun the ship to point up at the formation streaking by above. The dying fighter let loose a stream of bullets and a missile, and then it was falling away, falling, falling.
“Cut the—” But Walker’s command was too late. The feed burst into static and the whole bridge crew flinched. She had to distract them. She cast about for something. “Give me numbers. How many of ours left, and how many of theirs?”
“Five of ours left, ma’am, plus the shuttle.” Larsen met her eyes. “McAllister, Tocks, Princess, Morrison, Vu. And eight of theirs.”
His face was white with shock. Two weeks ago, they had never lost a fighter in open combat. Now they had lost … too many. And the officers had seen them die.
It would be worth it, Walker told herself. She seemed to be reminding herself of that a lot these days.
“The CAG is moving to the fore,” Larsen reported. “He has three on him.”
“The other five?”
“Random, they don’t seem to know who to shoot at.”
“Tell our fighters to keep one guarding Pike, and the rest should get those three, before—” She broke off. Before our distraction gets shot down.
King’s hands were white-knuckled around the edge of the table.
“Yes, ma’am.” Larsen was murmuring into the earpiece. “They’re on it.”
The specks of green, all but one, swung around to face the formation of three red dots. They couldn’t see bullets on the hologram, but it was clear a few moments later that all of them were shooting. The Telestine formation spread, and one blipped out of existence a moment later.
The CAG jerked his ship hard to port, in an arc that must have had his muscles screaming. A nod from Walker put his feed up on the screens. They could hear him swearing under his breath as he climbed toward the structure.
“Two more down—”
Larsen’s words died. On the hologram, the Telestine ship tilted further to the side, flickered, and plummeted straight for the mountains below.
“Holy shit,” Delaney murmured. His eyes were wide. “It’s going to—”
It disappeared in a mad flicker against the mountain range, and Larsen’s fingers stabbed at his screen to bring up a video feed from one of the pilots. The CAG’s ship shot over the wreck that smoked against the mountainside. It was collapsing in on itself as they watched; flames shot out of the tangled wreckage of the sides.
“We should call the fighters back.” King’s voice was expressionless now. “Did the rest of the team get out of the lab?”
“Not that I know of.” Walker met her eyes. “It’s possible, though. Pike’s communications were knocked out. Maybe theirs were, too. If—”
A light flared on the screen and the bottom dropped out of her stomach.
No.
“The shuttle’s been hit, ma’am.” Larsen looked up at her.
She could only shake her head desperately. This couldn’t be happening—to have the Dawning, and then to lose it.
And Pike with it.
A voice crackled to life: the CAG. “The shuttle is falling, but not destroyed. Fighters to me, get those feathers out of the sky. Just like in training, boys.”
Walker’s fingers were splayed over her stomach. Horror was making it difficult for her to breathe. Pike. The future of the Rebellion was plummeting toward the ground below and all she could think of was Pike.
Pike, who would never be down there if it weren’t for her.
Delaney’s eyes held a warning for her, reminding her to show no weakness in front of the crew, and she drew herself up slowly. Her fingers found the desk and she forced herself to stand straight. No weakness.
“McAllister, get out of there.”
King took a sharp breath.
“Ma’am?”
“He’s falling. The best we can do is leave it alone—otherwise they know we’re still invested. Get out of there, the window’s closing.” And we can’t afford to lose any more of you.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Three feathers swam into view. Shots streaked away, and one exploded in a cloud of silvery debris.
“All fighters, pull up.” McAllister’s voice was steady. “We’re going back to the nest.”
A light blinked out. Sarah Morrison, the holograph read. Age 22, Johnson Station.
Walker swallowed.
“Everyone keep going!” The CAG’s voice was desperate. “I’m dropping back, I’ll cover you.”
Walker watched as the other ships overtook him, and the whole formation put on speed. He’d turned his guns; two Telestine fighters blinked out behind him.
One left, and the CAG’s view screen turned as
he guided his ship in another whip-fast turn; they heard the dull thud of his head hitting the side of the windshield.
“No,” King whispered. She looked at Walker. “Tell him not to do this.” Her voice was pleading. “He has to go with the rest.”
Walker said nothing. Her eyes fixed on the Telestine ship and she steeled herself for an impact she would never feel. Its guns were swiveling as it swerved, suddenly facing its opponent. It had seen McAllister’s ship, and she could only hope it had realized what was happening too late. Missiles burst across the screen, lighting it to a brilliant white, and the feather tumbled out of the sky, smoke trailing from its wings.
There was a cheer from the bridge crew.
“Ma’am.” The CAG was breathing hard. “It’s done.”
“Come on home, McAllister.”
“We don’t have the time,” Delaney hissed. “There’s Telestine cruisers on the way.”
“I’m not leaving him down there.”
“Coming as fast as I can, ma’am.” The voice fuzzed out and returned. “Just so you know, I got a look. The shuttle crash-landed. It was still maneuvering. It looks like the hull is still intact. There’s a chance—”
The voice cut out.
Everyone on the bridge turned to look at Walker, and she, in turn, looked to the holograph.
“He’s still climbing.”
“We have to go,” Delaney said again.
“He’s still climbing.” She bit the words off.
“Approaching atmo break.” Larsen’s voice was quiet; he didn’t want to intervene in this fight.
“Vent bay four and open it. Close bay two as soon as the other fighters are in.”
Delaney’s hands were clenched.
Closer McAllister climbed, and closer.
“Ma’am, there’s a satellite coming into range. Probably has some offensive capabilities.”
Delaney shot her a look and Walker ignored him. Come on. She bit her lips to keep them from moving. Come on, McAllister.
The light disappeared on the screen and King’s shoulder’s hunched.
“He’s aboard, ma’am.”
“Get us out of here.” Her voice was crisp. “Now.”
Chapter Twenty
Earth
Mountains Near Denver, North American Continent
Later, he would remember nothing from that day. The crash took the memory of the Telestine ship, of Charlie disappearing into the labs. It took even the choice that had led him to take the shuttle and go with his one fugitive.
But that day, he remembered all of it, and it played in a sickening loop in his unconscious brain: abandoning the ship, the girl dragging his hand on the controls to launch the shuttle, and the chaos of the battle. He remembered the first strike and the shuttle tumbling before the guidance systems righted it, and his desperate attempts to guide it down to the ground as the battle raged overhead. Debris fell nearby every few seconds as ships blew apart. He tried not to look—at one point he’s seen the charred body of a pilot.
It had all gone wrong, the Dawning was lost to them, and then the ground was rushing up quicker and quicker and he only had time to look over at the girl sitting next to him and say, “I’m sorry.”
Then there was a burst of pain, a terrible brightness, and then the world went black and the whole sequence started again as his brain tried to find some way out of what he’d done. Stay on the Telestine ship? No, it had crashed as well, the team was dead.
Don’t go to the ship. He should never have gone to the Telestine ship.
He should have never responded to Walker’s desperate request.
The first thing that let him know he was awake was the frantic beating in his ears and feeling the pressure of his body slumped forward against the restraints. The acrid smell of smoke filled the cabin and he heard a crackle that sounded very much like fire.
He could taste blood.
He tried to remember how to pick his head up and settled for rolling it sideways instead. Wrong way, that was the wall. He rolled his head the other way, trying to ignore the way his stomach rebelled.
She was sitting calmly. Her eyes were open, and her hands were wrapped around the restraints at her shoulders. She was so still that for a moment he thought she was dead, and he gave a croak, a desperate attempt to say he was sorry, he’d thought she would be better off in the shuttle.
He jumped when she looked over at him. Her head had slammed against the wall at some point during the landing; her forehead and cheek were beginning to bruise a deep red with mottled purple. There didn’t seem to be much of anything in her eyes as she unhooked herself and came to check him. Her fingers poked at his ribs, tipped his chin up. His head slumped once and she drew her hand back as if she’d been burned.
She thought his neck was broken, he realized. He picked his head up and shook his head. He had the sense of forgetting something.
“Amright,” he slurred. I’m all right. Nothing was coming out the right way. “I’m ....” Better. What couldn’t he think of?
She shook her head and fumbled at the clasps.
He realized that he was listening for something. Other fighters. “More of ‘em? Fighters. Telestine.” His voice was still slurred.
She shook her head and caught him as he slumped forward. There was a wiry strength in her as she leveraged him out of the chair and half carried, half dragged him into the main cabin. Her arms gave out when she tried to lay him on the ground. He could feel the effort it took for her to lift him, but she didn’t make a sound. Not even a grunt.
She might not have flown a shuttle before, but she had watched when he came into the shuttle, and now she jabbed at the buttons to open the door. When they didn’t open, she thumped the control panel, her brow furrowed in frustration, and Pike felt his lips crack as he smiled—it was nice to see she felt something, at least.
Hitting the control panel, however, seemed to work. The doors creaked, hissed, and sprang open. Pike froze, but there was still no drone in the air, and the view outside was only rocks and scrub brush—no Telestines pointing guns at them.
That was good. Pike wasn’t sure he could stand up. He watched the girl peek out of the shuttle and look around, and then she came back and stared at him in evident consternation.
What she lacked in strength, she made up for in determination. She pulled on his wrists to haul him upright and braced him on her knees while she eased around the back of him, then heaved him over to the doorway with her hands under his armpits.
This wasn’t, Pike reflected, extraordinarily good for his pride. Rychenkov would laugh at him. Also, Rychenkov would laugh at him for crashing the shuttle, which was allowed to be funny now that they weren’t dead.
Having deposited him mostly upright, the girl crouched in the doorway and contemplated the sky. It was getting dark, he realized.
“Night soon,” he managed. “Cold.” He summoned every ounce of determination, and banished the last of the fuzziness from his brain. “We should stay here until morning.”
She looked over at him. He could see her considering, and then she nodded. The suggestion seemed to meet with her approval.
“I’m sorry I crashed the shuttle.”
She shrugged. It was almost like she was saying, “it happens, you know?”
“I’ll get you someplace safe,” Pike managed. “The Rebellion has a camp north of here ... I think.” Lord knew, the camp to the south of them was gone. Every member of that one had been on the airship when it crashed. He looked down at his hands, bruised from the impact. “Do you think any of them survived on the ship?”
She looked away at that.
His lips tightened. “Right. I’ll get you ... to the other camp. Soon. We’ll make it, I promise.”
She looked back. Her black eyes were clear, assessing. She was waiting for him to remember something. He tried to think back to what he’d said to her. There wasn’t much of it.
“The Dawning?”
She nodded.
&nb
sp; “It was on the ship.” He didn’t want to think about it, but he had to face facts. “It’s gone.”
She shook her head, frowning.
“There’s another one?”
Her frown deepened at that.
“You know where it is?”
She sat back on her heels, eyeing him.
So she didn’t want to tell him. That was all right. He’d just have to hope she’d tell someone else. “Okay. We’ll get you to the base, all right? They’ll be able to get in contact with the admiral.” For the first time, he felt a stab of something like hope. Maybe they could still find it.
Maybe they could all still make it out of this alive.
Don’t give up, Walker.
Chapter Twenty-One
Earth
Mountains Near Denver, North American Continent
The night passed slowly. Search lights swept across the mountainside, looking for survivors. Pike slept fitfully. Every once in a while, the light passed directly over the shuttle and lit the windshield a brilliant white, light that spilled into the interior. He would wake and find his mind a bit clearer. The girl was always awake, sitting against the closed shuttle doors, her gaze fixed on the back wall.
“What’s your name?” he asked her once.
She didn’t answer.
On another waking, soaked in sweat from a nightmare he couldn’t remember: “How did you end up in the labs?”
She didn’t answer that either.
Each time he woke, his mind was clearer. Sometime before dawn, he pushed himself up and leaned his head back against the wall of the shuttle. The imagined voices of the trapped Rebellion soldiers were ringing in his head, a relentless reminder of the lives he’d left behind. What few words they’d spoken to him during the two weeks of their acquaintance were stamped in his memory now. He could hear Eva’s warnings and Charlie’s defiant assertions. They’d resented him and everything he stood for: a Rebellion that wasn’t even based on Earth, run by spacers, with terms dispatched like edicts to those on the ground.
Their fears about him had been well founded. He had to acknowledge that.
