Heaven's Call: A thrilling military science fiction book (LUMINA Book 3)

by I G Hulme

  “Okay, that’s it, everybody back to your stations.” Mellarnne stood, ushering the few remaining officers out of the door. There was an unsettled murmur of voices as they left, and many cast their anxious glances over towards Grayell, who remained in his chair, deep in thought.

  Anders was the last to leave, and he lay a heavy hand upon Grayell’s shoulder as he passed.

  “Don’t worry Grayell,” he said in his deep, gruff voice. “Just pilots being pilots. After the next fight all this will be forgotten.”

  He nodded over to Ryann as he left. “Good to have you alongside us back there on New Eden,” he said with a grim smile. “You handled your ship well. You’ll make your father proud.” He gave a hearty laugh and strode off out of the room.

  “Well, that could have all gone better,” sighed Mellarnne; there were just the three of them remaining now: himself, Ryann, and Grayell.

  “I’ll have someone loyal keep an eye on Ransome, just to make sure he doesn’t try to stir up any more trouble.”

  Grayell didn’t reply. He just stared off into the distance, lost in thought.

  “Grayell?”

  “Let me know if there are any changes to the current situation.” Grayell stood abruptly, ready to leave. “Ryann, I want you with me.”

  Mellarnne looked on in surprise as Grayell headed for the exit. He turned to Ryann, who just shrugged, turning to follow his father.

  “If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters,” called Grayell over his shoulder. He stalked out of the room with Ryann following close behind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LOCKE

  “Look, there’s nothing more we can do for the time-being. It’s going to be another seven hours before we’re close enough to the planetary cluster to think about deviating from our present course.” Grayell slumped down at the table of his cramped quarters. There was little in the room to suggest anything about his character. It was bare and no more than functional. The only personal possession that Ryann could discern was a small holograph of Ryann’s mother sitting upon an otherwise empty shelf. It was a copy of one of the very few pictures of his mother that he had ever seen. She had died in an accident before he was able to remember her face, and his only memories were formed around those few pictures; he knew in his heart that those fragments weren’t real. He caught himself staring longingly at the grainy image.

  Grayell appraised his son for a moment and then gave a weary laugh.

  “You look like hell,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and stretching. “When was the last time you got any sleep?”

  “I’m okay,” muttered Ryann defensively. “If the Lumina begin to suspect anything then everybody’s going to have to be ready.”

  “I know, that’s what I’m saying. You’re going to be more use if you’re rested up. Don’t worry, if any of those battleships decide to come for us, they’re far enough away that we’ll have some time to get ready. Just try and get some rest Ryann. That’s an order.” He grinned mischievously.

  Ryann felt a secret wave of relief at the prospect of even a little time to rest — he was almost dead on his feet. He nodded, heading for the door.

  “And I’m sorry if I was hard on you earlier,” came Grayell’s voice, awkward and tentative. “I’ve just got a lot to think about at the moment.” He laughed and shook his head at the understatement. “Just, don’t listen when I get like that — I didn’t mean what I said. You’re a good kid Ryann — you did well back there on New Eden. You helped turn the day around — it could have been a massacre. But, to get through all that without a single Ghost-Runner casualty — we couldn’t have hoped for more. When Anders said you did well in the fight — it made me proud to hear that.”

  Ryann paused a moment, unsure of how to reply. Again, he felt a surge of anger at the thought of all those Outlander lives lost aboard the Ibis.

  He stepped wearily from his father’s room, heading down the corridor towards his quarters.

  Ryann awoke from a fitful sleep inhabited by dreams of drifting out in the cold vastness of space, gulping the last breaths from his air tanks. He dreamed that he was trying to cry out for help, but there wasn’t another soul to hear him for millions of miles. Just empty, dead space.

  He sat up with a start, gasping heavily. With a groan, he dragged his aching body up, sitting upon the edge of the bed; he stared at his hands as they shook.

  He caught sight of his watch and saw that he had been asleep a little over four hours. He sighed and pulled on his boots, still weak from his trials over the past days.

  When he got back to his father’s quarters he found Grayell in the same place as he left him; he was still seated at the table, staring blankly at a grainy view of space upon the wall-screen. Ryann could just make out the weak light glinting off the obsidian hulls of the Luminal fleet as the screen flicked slowly from one enemy vessel to the next. As he watched, the image came briefly to rest upon a craft at the very centre of the armada, one much larger than the others. It was a shape terribly familiar to Ryann; he could still see the image of that monstrous vessel bearing down upon them as he and Angelique lay hidden within the wreck-field. He felt a jolt of pain in the pit of his stomach at the sight of it.

  “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  Grayell looked up in surprise scanning the room as though suddenly aware of his surroundings.

  “I was just trying to get some rest myself.” he croaked, giving Ryann a bleak smile. He pointed wearily up to the view screen. “I guess I was hoping to find some inspiration really. I always knew that we’d have our work cut out in getting back to the Luminal source — I never thought we’d get dealt as bad a hand as this though.”

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do when we get to the planetary cluster?” asked Ryann, sitting down at the table beside his father. He found his gaze constantly drawn back to the image of the Luminal fleet.

  Grayell sighed deeply.

  “We’ve got some more data on it now. There are three planets in the system, one of them a gas giant. We’re hoping that there may be some moons, or an asteroid belt we can hide in. We’ll try and peel off from the other ships and hope that they don’t get suspicious.”

  “Well, they haven’t realised we’re not a real Luminal yet — we might just get away with it. How long until we’re near the planets?”

  “Three hours or so,” muttered Grayell distantly, lost in thought. “I just wish I knew what all these Luminal ships are doing here. They’re still burning up huge amounts of energy to create a hyperspace interdiction field.”

  “Ever seen anything like this from them before?” asked Ryann.

  “Not on this scale no. I mean, the field is nothing new — it’s the same principal as any hyperspace interdictor — like those used by the police to stop ships that are trying to outrun them — or pirates wanting to knock a target out of a trade-lane.”

  Ryann winced. He had mixed with some unsavoury characters in his travels who had used them for that very purpose.

  “How big are we talking?” asked Ryann, looking back to the view-screen.

  “The long range scans are telling us that the effects cover the entire Lokhus system and much of the way to Typhon-7.”

  “If it’s still going on, then surely it can’t have been meant for us. Do you think they’re expecting somebody else?” asked Ryann, looking over to his father in alarm.

  “My thoughts exactly,” replied Grayell. “Perhaps this isn’t an invasion fleet after all.”

  “Then what is it? A defence force? But against whom?”

  Grayell just shrugged and shook his head in fatigue.

  They sat in silence for a time.

  Ryann studied the view-screen in fascination. He had never seen more than a handful of Luminal ships, and then often only glimpses. Now that he had the chance to study them he could see the similarities and differences between them.

  They all conformed to the same basic design — a crescent-shaped cra
ft of vast proportions, each one made from the same alien material. It was a strange semi-transparent surface that showed glimpses of a myriad lights beneath, hinting of great cityscapes.

  But there were subtle differences between vessels, as though each had been constructed by different creators. Some travelled in a horizontal attitude, like ponderous flying saucers, whilst others travelled on edge. Some were arrayed with great protrusions of masts, towers, and lights — their hulls adorned with strange symbols, whilst others were simpler, plain designs.

  But none compared to the central craft, the one that had attacked them at New Eden and destroyed Jean-Baptiste Grande along with the Ibis. It was so much larger than the others, and it seemed to give off a pale illumination that drew Ryann’s eye again and again.

  After a while, he realised that his father was staring at him in silent curiosity. Ryann turned away in embarrassment.

  “It’s that ship,” he murmured quietly, his head bowed. “The one that destroyed the Ibis.” A vision of Jean-Baptiste’s face filled his mind’s eye, and he realised that his hand had reached instinctively up to the Reliquary, still hidden in the pocket of his flight-suit. In all the recent confusion he had all but forgotten about it. He considered taking it out and showing it to his father, but something made him hold back.

  When he finally did speak, he found it difficult to conceal the anger in his voice.

  “I know that Jean-Baptiste killed some of the crew from New Eden, and he probably deserved what came to him. But, his people were innocent — they were families — children. They didn’t deserve to die.”

  Ryann’s father stayed quiet for a moment as though measuring his words.

  “I made a mistake,” he breathed at last, and the words were barely a whisper. “When that Outlander, Grande, told me that he had taken you hostage — I just saw red. I couldn’t bear the thought that I might lose you again.”

  He went to reach out to his son, then hesitated, letting his hand fall back to the table.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled at last. “It was my fault that we brought Locke down on us.”

  Ryann looked up.

  “Locke?” he asked in confusion.

  Grayell nodded over to the view screen.

  “James Locke,” he said, pronouncing the words slowly. “That ship. I recognised the markings when we ran into him at New Eden. That’s their leader. Admiral James Locke, commander of the Battleship Oak.”

  Ryann stared at his father in surprise.

  “That’s his ship?” he stuttered, staring at the grainy image. “The one that destroyed the Ibis?”

  “Not his ship no,” murmured Grayell. “Locke is the ship, and the ship is him — his psyche, his mind. He was given such a terrible power by the Luminal entity. And James Locke is not a man that should ever be given power. But, as so often happens, the worst souls claw their way to the top.”

  “Who is he?” asked Ryann. “You’ve never mentioned him before.”

  It had never really occurred to Ryann that the Lumina were anything other than faceless beings, mindlessly destroying all life within their path. When they had wiped out his homeworld of Islanotis almost three years ago, Ryann had been only a boy of sixteen. His hatred of the Lumina had been unformed — a collection of fury and despair for everything he had lost: his homeworld memories, his father — his future. He had always allowed events to channel his rage towards the Lumina, but it was a blind rage. He hadn’t really considered the object of his hate, as the Lumina were always so removed, both in distance and appearance. The Lumina were just ships to him. He had never seen any beings that crewed them — no-one had, apart from his father.

  Myth had formed around the galaxy’s mysterious invaders. There were tales that the crew of the Luminal warships were alien creatures. Sometimes they were described as reptilian, other times humanoid — perhaps crazed robots determined to wipe out their creators. He had even heard some stories that said the Lumina were the ghostly crews of ships lost in space, haunting the living, hellbent upon revenge.

  All these stories were absurd he knew, because he had listened to the truth from the mouth of his father.

  The Lumina were projections from the minds of the crew of the Battleship Oak, a border patrol ship that had stumbled across an alien entity, humanity’s first and only contact with another sentient life-form in the entirety of the universe. In its attempt to defend itself, the entity had somehow captured the crew of the Battleship Oak, amplifying their thoughts and forming them into material projections, and sending them back to fight against humanity. Over two thousand minds, each one a vast ship with seemingly limitless powers.

  This was the story Ryann had heard from his father, but even Grayell’s wild descriptions had failed to resonate within him. It was hard to see the Luminal ships as anything but objects constructed from everyday materials and crewed by individuals, not some bizarre constructs of the human psyche.

  “Locke is the ship,” repeated Grayell, shaking Ryann from his brooding thoughts. “That is the most important thing to remember. There isn’t a man aboard that ship giving orders. Who knows what the hell you would find if you went aboard. But, if you did see things there that looked like people, then I can assure you they would be far from human.”

  “How do you know who he is?” asked Ryann, intrigued by his father’s sudden willingness to talk.

  “Some time after me and Mellarnne made first contact with the Lumina — well, years after, when the invasion was underway, me and Mellarnne were trying to get our story heard by the Navy. Well, we did as much research as we could into the Battleship Oak and her crew.

  “Mellarnne was pretty high up in the military at the time, and managed to get hold of the crew’s records — some of it classified stuff that the Navy weren’t too proud of either.”

  Ryann hung upon his father’s words.

  “Admiral James Locke was a cruel man — a real sadist. He was an extreme disciplinarian, and a heavy drinker, who often let his temper get out of control. He was almost court-marshalled after he opened up an airlock door on a new recruit as a punishment — almost killed the boy.

  “But it seems he had friends in high places, and whatever he did, Locke seemed to get away with it. He rose up through the ranks at the times of the Shannar Uprising — got posted there for six years, ended up an admiral. He stayed on after the mutiny, heading a peace-keeping force. Like many others, they went a little native according to some reports — possibly got himself a Shannaran wife — different reports give conflicting stories.

  “Anyway, after a few years there was another incident where his temper got the better of him and he ended up in trouble again. There was a big political uproar when he sent a force of local militia into a battle against some warlord who was encroaching on Locke’s province. He got his entire company decimated then called in a Navy gunship to take out the whole stronghold in a rage.

  “Hundreds of civilians ended up dying, as well as all of Locke’s allied militia.

  “Well, his friends in high places couldn’t get him out of that one, not completely anyway — though they tried. Locke ended up being shipped off to a nowhere sector of border space on the Outer Edge. They demoted him to captain, and hoped he would be forgotten. He was left out there to rot as captain of an eighty year old battleship, patrolling a radiation field that not even pirates found enticing enough to visit.”

  Grayell paused a moment, pouring himself a shot of whisky, swirling the liquid around the bottom of his glass in silent reverie.

  “The Battleship Oak?” breathed Ryann. Grayell nodded slowly.

  “He ran that ship like everything else he did,” he muttered. “It must have been hell. There were numerous complaints about him — bullying, violence — he threatened to shoot the navigation officer apparently. Sounded like he hated being shipped off to the borderlands and took it out on his crew.”

  “And then they discovered the entity?”

  “Lumina.” Grayell’s word was n
o more than a breath. “I can’t imagine a worse person to have been given such power.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A HERALD OF GOD

  “Sir, Mellarnne needs you on the bridge right away!”

  The breathless crewman barely had chance to get out of the doorway before Grayell and Ryann had rushed past, heading for the control centre.

  “Are we under attack?” Grayell called back over his shoulder as they hurried down a flight of steps, but he was already coming out into the bridge.

  “What have we got?” he shouted across the crowded room. Mellarnne looked up from the display station, his face cast in shifting colours from the scanner projections. He was standing with a group of other officers who made room for Grayell and Ryann as they approached.

  “Have they discovered us?” he asked urgently. Ryann studied the faces of the officers around him. They looked like carved masks, he thought, their expressions grim but determined.

  “No, it’s something else,” murmured Mellarnne, his eyes never leaving the projections as he worked to focus the passive scans. “I’m not sure what it is — it looks like a ship has just jumped in — not far from the way-station. But it’s not Luminal.”

  “What?” exclaimed Grayell, peering intently at the readouts. “What are they doing this far into enemy territory? Can you make out anything about it?”

  Mellarnne shook his head as he worked the controls.

  “Not with the passive scans,” he cursed. “But, judging by its energy wake, it looks as though it’s been knocked out of hyperspace just like us.”

  “Only they’re right in the centre of those Luminal ships,” murmured Ryann. The scanner was a cluster of hundreds of red dots that displayed the amassing fleet, and at its very centre a single orange point indicated the new arrival.

  “Well it looks as though they won’t be here for long,” breathed Mellarnne. “All Luminal vessels are changing their course towards the new ship.”