Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9)

by Mark Wandrey

  “Those are all furphies,” Ripley said quickly. “Stories they tell pups to scare them.”

  “Yeah?” Sonya replied, her eyes wide. “Well I’m pretty bloody scared right now.”

  Ripley pushed toward the squad bay they shared with the rest of their platoon. The sound of Humans yelling at each other in confusion and alarm came to her ears as she pulled the airtight door open.

  “What are you doing?” Drake asked.

  “Getting geared up,” she said. A few of the Human mercs were entering the compartment as well, all floating toward equipment lockers.

  “Why?” Drake demanded. A second later, Paku’s howling general quarters alarm went off.

  “That’s why.” Everyone else exploded into motion.

  * * *

  “The ship is on combat footing,” Paku’s tactical officer reported.

  Alan again admired the discipline of the Zuul crew. Faced with the unexpected and impossible, they’d quickly overcome their own feelings and gone to work. As a merc company commander, he’d spent innumerable hours with his troopers, teaching them to work the problem. It seemed to be instinctive to the Zuul crew. They all knew their duty as though it were intrinsic to their being.

  “Sensors are coming online,” a technician reported.

  One of the problems with their predicament was not being ready for anything. Most of the bridge was unmanned during hyperspace, with the crew reporting for duty an hour or two before emergence to check out their instruments. Not only did Captain I’kik have to wait impatiently for her crew to get to their stations, but many systems had to be booted up and brought online.

  “What do we have?” Captain I’kik asked. “And get me a position fix.”

  “Working on the positional fix,” the navigator replied.

  Navigational systems were relatively simple. They used cameras to take pictures of the stars, and computers to compare those pictures against all the recorded positions of those stars. Run a few million comparisons, and bingo; you know where you are.

  “Got it, we’re in the E’cop’k system.”

  “Never heard of it,” Alan said.

  “Me neither,” the captain admitted.

  “Nor me,” A’kef made it unanimous.

  “Details?” I’kik asked the navigator.

  “Roughly between Klbood and our intended destination of P’k’k, which were 295 light years apart. It’s closer to P’k’k than Klbood, but since hyperspace is non-Einsteinian in its physics, that doesn’t really—”

  “No, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” the captain said icily.

  Alan was amused that his translator assigned Einstein to a term the Zuul used. He guessed every race might have a brilliant mathematician in their past, so it was a universally translatable term?

  “Sorry, Captain. E’cop’k system wouldn’t be well known because it’s not a charted system for travel. There’s no stargate here, and I have nothing more than its positional data and spectral class. This usually means the system has no planets or asteroids.”

  “No stargate?” Alan hissed, looking at the captain in alarm. “That means…”

  “It means, unless the data or position is wrong, we’re trapped here.”

  An alarm sounded, and the tactical officer spoke up. “I have incoming bogies in our threat box. Identified 22 targets at 199 mark 42. Range three light seconds and closing fast. Confidence is high they are either missiles or drones.”

  “Best guess?” I’kik asked.

  “Missiles, because they’re still accelerating. Impact in 355 seconds if they maintain acceleration profile.”

  “Helm,” I’kik barked. “Prepare for maximum thrust. Everyone, strap in.”

  Throughout Paku, the acceleration alarm blared, reminding Alan of the sound his pups made just before starting a fight. He didn’t have time to let it worry him, though, as he did his best to get the ill-fitting straps to lock into place on the too-small chair his visiting commander status allowed on the bridge. He was also trying not to think about the glass of the bridge front and sides, and how fragile it was compared to the armored walls of Starbright’s CIC. A second later, he felt the acceleration build as Paku’s twin fusion torches lit with a vengeance.

  * * *

  “Belt in!” a chorus of voices demanded in every shade between angry and concerned.

  Shadow shoved forward from the squad bay hatch, his speed impressive. Even as Sonya reached for him, pushing against her harness to swing her brother into his acceleration seat, she knew her brother was too late.

  The building acceleration shoved her back against the too thin padding, and Shadow’s graceful flight into the bay turned into a faceplant and skid on the metal deck. He gave a little yip of pain, though it sounded mostly like frustrated anger. He came to a stop less than a meter from his assigned position. He struggled to rise as the gravity built.

  “Get down!” Bana barked, because there was a down now, and Shadow wasn’t going to make it to a jump seat.

  “What do you think I am now?” Shadow snapped at the NCO in uncustomary anger.

  The thrust increased from noticeable to uncomfortable, and charged higher still. Sonya could only watch as her brother did his best to secure himself by wrapping both legs around a stanchion and grabbing a pair of loose cargo straps. If we have a powerful sideways thrust, he’s in real trouble, she thought. The hubbub from their fellow mercs dwindled as the pressure increased.

  Sonya pulled in and pushed out air at a deliberate pace. The Paku shuddered against her back, and a particularly overweight Oogar pressed against her chest. She blinked and restarted her breathing count. Four count in, five count out, five count in, four count out…

  The more deeply she breathed, the deeper the tang of Human scent pooled in the back of her throat. Next to her, Hewers grunted, and she didn’t have to turn her head to know he’d clenched his jaw and likely burst more than few capillaries.

  “Isometrics, not your mouth bones,” she said, her voice coming out more breathless than she expected.

  “Humans are so squishy,” Drake commented, sounding only vaguely winded.

  “Credit’s on our having a ways to go,” Bana said, and the sergeant sounded all but normal. Amazing what training could do. “You’ve all had the bloody nanite treatment; you can take it. Remember your training, don’t go all idiot on me now. Nobody should be graying out yet.”

  “Not…graying…” Hewers replied, making a valiant attempt. “Just bit my damn lip.”

  “Wish I hadn’t eaten all that bloody sausage for brekkers,” someone said and got a few halfhearted laughs in reply.

  “You’re strapped in, at least,” Rex pointed out. “Point to the Humans.”

  “I’m not losing a point because Shadow got lost.” Drake snorted. Sonya recounted her breathing—if Drake could sound as normal as Bana, she could, too.

  “Tucker wanted to chuck you out an airlock for missing first call,” she said. “You’re lucky dad called him up, and he’s not here to see you miss safety check, too.”

  “Was with Isgono.” Shadow’s tone managed conversational, and next to her, Hewers snorted.

  “Not really the time for language tutoring, Shadow,” Drake interjected. “Even Rex managed to tear himself away from—”

  A rippling growl cut across whatever Drake had been about to say next, and Sonya’s ears pricked up in interest. What had Rex been up to? He’d been nearly feral when they’d gathered in the squad bay, only the pressing uncertainty of their situation seeming to get through to him.

  “Paulson, I didn’t know you had cheekbones,” she said, choosing to redirect the conversation before anyone pushed Rex to the point he unfastened his harness.

  “Can’t all hide under fur,” Paulson grunted, his usual grin more of a skull-shaped grimace.

  “Well, Dyffid gave it his best shot last winter, didn’t he?” The acceleration ramped up to the point even Bana’s voice started to sound strangled, but he held his body relaxed
, muscle groups jumping as he flexed through his isometrics. “Looked like he glued a swamp rat to his chin.”

  “Give him credit, Sarge.” Ripley matched the sergeant’s easy posture, tongue lolling as though they were all sitting on the beach. “It was a fine-looking Veetanho pelt.”

  The acceleration changed subtly, and Sonya felt Paku roll to port. The hull reverberated with a popping sound, and Bana’s eyes got wide.

  “What is it, Sarge?” Paulson asked.

  “They’ve just fired missiles,” Bana said. “Sounds like we’re in a right proper scrum.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 2

  ZMS Paku, Classified Engineering Guild Holding—E’cop’k System

  “Anti-missiles in the black!” the tactical officer barked as the hull popped from multiple launches. “ECM gain to maximum.”

  The Tri-V to one side of the bridge, which had been building a picture of Paku’s surroundings, took on a greenish tinge to represent less detail as the ship’s electronic counter measures system broadcast all manner of interference, hoping to screw up the enemy missiles’ guidance.

  “When can you get me some drone recon?” Captain I’kik asked.

  “If we launch them now, we risk them becoming targets for the missiles,” the ship’s drone officer said.

  Alan nodded, since he knew some warships used drones for exactly that purpose, extremely capable anti-missile decoys. Capable, and expensive. Starbright relied on more conventional decoys, which were more akin to chemical rockets. Cheap and easy to replace, unlike fusion-powered drones.

  He could tell the captain was frustrated by her body language. Some of it seemed instinctive with the Zuul, like it was with Humans. His kids got the same look when forced to do something they didn’t like.

  “Launch four sensor drones in coast mode,” she eventually ordered. “We’ll shake the bones on this one.”

  A’kef must have seen the puzzled look on Alan’s face because he spoke up. “Jaapi is a game of chance we play. Counters are cut from prey bones and have different markings. When you make a bet, you shake a handful of them and toss them on the ground, hoping the ones you bet on land atop of another.”

  “Sounds a little like craps,” Alan said.

  “You gamble on defecation?”

  Alan laughed and shook his head. Translator fail. He explained, and A’kef gave a little laugh of his own.

  “We are not too dissimilar in many ways,” the alien said. “I believe much of the differences are, we come from primary predator stock, only becoming omnivorous later in our evolution, while you were opportunist omnivores, only becoming effective predators when you had developed some technology. Similar in many ways, different in others.”

  “I have no argument with that analogy,” Alan said. “The most savage merc races we’ve encountered were all vicious predator species.” He thought about the Tortantula and the Besquith in particular. He knew the Besquith and Zuul didn’t get along at all. The Besquith considered the Zuul cowards for not embracing their killer side. The Zuul thought of the Besquith as simple, mindless killers. He wondered who more often got the better of the other in conflict?

  The banter between mercs was a good thing for Alan; he could feel some of the tension going out of him. A ground-pounding merc like himself never felt more helpless than when trapped in a starship in the midst of a space battle. While Silent Night could fight as marines in space on ships, they’d only done it a bare handful of times in his life. It also wasn’t part of their monthly training rotation. Rather only twice a year. Besides, lofting a couple hundred troopers and their armor to practice in the black was expensive.

  “Your troopers have practice in space?” A’kef asked, seemingly following Alan’s train of thought.

  “Not much,” he admitted. “Human mercs who fight in space are called marines, and they usually specialize.”

  A’kef nodded in understanding. “Vo’Hosh are specialists in space combat of all types among the Zuul.”

  “Are they part of Krif’hosh?” Alan asked. The name A’kef had used was similar to that of the merc company his kids had come from all those years ago.

  Every head on the bridge came around at Alan’s words, and he suddenly wondered if he’d badly mispronounced the name. He hadn’t said it in many years, not since Crent, the Zuul merc who’d given him the pups, had said it. Captain I’kik and A’kef exchanged looks, then the tactical officer spoke up again.

  “Anti-missile intercept underway.”

  Though the Tri-V was fogged green, the locations of their anti-missiles were still clearly indicated, along with the enemy missiles, thanks to relayed data from the former. At least to Alan, it looked like there were a lot more missiles than their interceptors. Curious, he asked the captain.

  “The type of anti-missile we use is actually six interceptor warheads in one missile. They break apart on terminal approach.” She gestured at the Tri-V. “Watch.”

  Just as she’d described, the 10 or so anti-missiles Paku had launched began to blossom into six each, outnumbering the incoming missiles nearly three-to-one. Bright white little pops began to appear in the display as the smaller interceptors detonated near their targets.

  Meanwhile, four drones had been launched. They were represented by red triangles on the Tri-V. Most races in the Union didn’t use red as a threat. Green or blue was more common; red was found more commonly for friendly identification. In space, one of the biggest limitations was sensor lag. Because radio only travelled at the speed of light, as did the drone sensors, valuable target data could take more than a minute to be relayed to the ship. Anxious time passed slowly.

  “Inbound missiles have split!” the tactical officer barked in alarm.

  “What?” Captain I’kik yelped. “Nobody uses those missiles!”

  On the other side of the Tri-V where the inbound missiles were approaching, the previous 20 clear green incoming missiles had blossomed into nearly 100. Now their split anti-missiles were no longer sufficient, even if every single one hit its target.

  “Active ECM,” I’kik said. “Bring us about, high-G skew turn.”

  Just before the ECM antennae began broadcasting their powerful waves of electromagnetic radiation, Alan saw the far side of their battlespace marking several large targets—warships. The thrust increased yet again, and he concentrated on breathing as the tiny green and red missiles battled for life and death.

  * * *

  Sonya forced her eyes open after every blink, though she wanted nothing more than to squeeze them shut and howl her frustration. Around them an unseen battle raged, and yet again she had nowhere to direct the pent-up energy rampaging through her system.

  She’d never been the sibling most inclined to violence—both Rex and Drake easily outclassed her there—but on Earth, there had never been a need. In the deep black of space, where nearly everyone had more training than she, both her inexperience and her need to prove herself chafed.

  The Paku shuddered around them, and Sonya swallowed back a whine. She met Ripley’s gaze and saw her discomfort mirrored in her sister’s flattened ears and tightened muzzle. Ripley rolled her eyes in a shared understanding, and Sonya’s nerves flattened, at least a little.

  WHAM.

  Sonya’s bottom half jerked one way as her head slammed back against the seat.

  WHAM.

  Before she could reorient from the impact, the ship spun violently, smaller impacts juddering the hull. She spared a thought for Shadow as her harness dug under her arms and into her skin.

  “Breathe, and brace!” Bana shouted, calm and loud as ever.

  Whatever scrum they’d gotten into had intensified. Had their attackers been the ones to pull them out of hyperspace, or had they just wandered into some warring titans in a forgotten corner of the universe?

  WHAM.

  A ragged howl pulled an answer from her before she registered that it was Drake, and a moment later, a chorus rose from every throat—Human and Zuul—in t
heir bay.

  Silent Night—they might not get to fight in the space battle, but come entropy or death, they’d scream into its face until the last.

  * * *

  I’kik kept her balance better than Alan could, leaning into and against each varying spin as the crew of the Paku kept her moving.

  “Charvet, fire the CID.” I’kik tilted her head toward Alan, jutting her lower jaw to the side like one of his kids with a secret. “Charvet has the best control of the close-in-defense lasers you’ll ever see. No Human is a match for her.”

  At a panel to his left, a darkly-spotted Zuul straightened and leaned closer into her panel of controls. Alan appreciated the boost to morale and the sentiment behind him, though they’d need a dozen more lasers and the multi-armed Lumar to spot them to have any hope of making it through the cloud of missiles inbound.

  “Nuclear impacts at seven, thirteen, five.” Another crew member slammed his hand against his leg, the edge of a frustrated howl eating at his words. “No direct hits, but—”

  The shuddering hits were immediately followed by the rapid spin of the ship, in a desperate attempt to present the most intact shields to the heaviest of the incoming bombardment.

  Two more hits, harder and closer, and Alan knew it for what it was before the crew member confirmed, “Direct hits, two and six.”

  “We’re down seventy-five percent of our shields.” The tallest of the Zuul on the bridge displayed nothing but calm. “I’ll keep spinning, but the incoming round is going to have double what the CID can handle.”

  I’kik’s busy hands paused only a moment before the captain steadied herself and nodded.

  “Stand by to abandon ship. Queue the alerts.” Her hands moved again, blurring like Charvet’s at the CID controls.

  Alan knew the numbers too well to have to run them. He didn’t have room for both A and B squads on the one dropship they had. Starbright had most of their equipment, to go with most of their troops, but with the newly confirmed mercs, he was well over what the Phoenix-class dropship could handle.