by Richard Fox
Jerry took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind, and met her eyes again. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Popov nodded. “Good, we still have work to do. Come on. There’s two more left.”
She helped him to his feet, then turned back to the cabin’s hatch.
Jerry brushed himself off, looking down again at the alien’s corpse, wondering if his father had ever killed anything like that before. He shook the ache from his fingers and turned to follow Popov. He’d have plenty of time to—
Crack-bdew!
Popov gasped, stumbling back into the cabin, tripping over the alien’s legs. She landed on the cabin’s deck, a pained expression on her face, looking up at Jerry as if she was asking him what had happened. Her hands pressed against her abdomen, bright-red blood seeping between her fingers.
“Oh, shit!” Jerry hissed, dropping to a knee, putting his hands over of hers.
Popov grunted, shaking her head. “No…” Her words were hoarse and pained. “No, I’ll be okay—"
Footsteps echoed in the corridor. Jerry spun, bringing his pistol up just as one of the pirates came into view. He screamed and squeezed the trigger.
The pistol bucked hard, but he heard nothing, barely saw the alien jerk back, falling into the bulkhead. Blood pounded in Jerry’s ears as he got to his feet, keeping the pistol trained on the alien as he slid down to the deck.
The pirate locked his hate-filled eyes on Jerry’s, growling through clenched teeth. His hand reached for something on his hip.
“No!” Jerry shouted, pulling the trigger three times.
The Pindiki shuddered with each impact, his arms falling to his side, his head dropping forward. He took several ragged breaths, then lay still, blood pooling beneath him.
Jerry held the pistol on the pirate for several long moments, trying to comprehend what had just happened. He couldn’t remember thinking about firing, couldn’t even remember pulling the trigger or hearing the blast, but the alien was dead all the same.
“Popov!” Jerry said, remembering the wounded Pathfinder behind him.
Popov sat on the floor, propped against the bed, rifle lying across her lap. The color had started to drain from her face; her hair was soaked through with sweat and matted to her face. Blood had soaked the front of her suit.
“You okay?”
“I’m okay,” she said, voice weak.
“I’m going to finish this.”
Jerry stepped out into Valiant’s bay and came face to face with another alien pirate. The alien curled its lips up in a sneer, beady eyes narrowing. Jerry brought the pistol up, hoping to get a shot off before the pirate realized what was happening.
With a growl of anger, the pirate knocked the pistol away with the back of his hand, sending it twirling into the cargo bay. It bounced and slid across the deck before bouncing off on of the rover’s back tires.
The pirate lunged, light flashing off a twisted blade in his hand. Jerry stepped forward, bringing his hands up, blocking the side-arm thrust. He spun to the side, grabbing the alien’s arm and using his momentum against him, pulling the pirate off balance. The pirate bounced off the railing, crying out as Jerry let go, flinging him back along the walkway.
Frantically, Jerry looked around for something, anything, to use as a weapon. Nothing. The pirate regained his footing and charged, knife held out in from of him like a spear. Jerry backpedaled, hand sliding across the rail for guidance. There wasn’t anywhere to go except…
The pirate roared as it closed on Jerry, bringing the knife back, preparing to ram it into the boy’s chest. Jerry clamped his fingers around the rail, halting his backward progress, then pulled himself forward again. He kicked off the deck, launching himself into the air, driving a booted foot into the alien’s chest. The impact sent the pirate stumbling back as Jerry continued through the air, over the rail and down onto Valiant’s cargo deck.
A metallic clang echoed through the bay when he landed, the impact jarring his bones. He’d landed near some of the Pathfinder supply crates, most of which had been rummaged through and were scattered haphazardly across the deck.
Jerry saw the rover ten meters away, his eyes drawn to the pistol lying on the deck to one side. He took off at a sprint, knowing his only hope was to reach that pistol before the pirate reached him.
The pirate landed awkwardly behind him, knocking over several crates and bellowing out angry curses Jerry didn’t understand. More crates tumbled across the deck as the alien got to his feet, footsteps echoing behind him as he gave chase.
I’m going to make it, Jerry told himself as he closed on the pistol. I have to make it. He could dive for the weapon, grab it, turn, and fire before the alien got to him. He’d empty the magazine. He would—
The alien crashed into Jerry’s back, sending the teen tumbling forward. The impact knocked Jerry off-course, sending him away from the pistol. Jerry landed face-first on the deck, the alien falling on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs.
Jerry grunted, feeling the alien move behind him. Panic flashed in his mind. He needed to get off his cheek. He thrust his rear up, bringing his knees to his chest, then pushing up. The move launched the alien over Jerry’s head, flipping him through the air. The pirate crashed into another row of supply crates, scattering the stack across the deck.
Jerry caught one of the smaller plastics cases, about the size of a shoebox, and raised it high as he pushed himself to his feet. He ignored the pain in his lungs, forgot the pain throbbing up and down his arms, and pushed aside his exhaustion. If he didn’t stop this now, he would lose, he knew it. He would lose, and he would fail every of human on this mission.
Jerry Hale would not fail.
With a roar, Jerry fell on the pirate as he struggled to climb out of the mess of crates and slammed the case into his face. It hit with a wet crunch, and Jerry felt bone snap. The alien’s body jerked in shock and fell back, knocking several more crates aside. Jerry didn’t stop. As he cocked back for another blow, he drove his knee into the pirate’s chest, pinning him to the deck. He brought the case down again, rage driving it hard into the alien’s face. Jerry’s face contorted with anger and fear and fury as he slammed the case down a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth.
He screamed as alien blood splattered, spraying up every time Jerry pulled the case away. He rammed it down again and again and again. He hammered it down until his arm hurt and his voice was raw from yelling.
Finally, his fingers let go of the crate, letting it fall to the deck. It splashed in a growing pool of blood, spraying droplets all over. He saw back on the balls of his feet, breath coming in hurried, ragged gasps. Blood covered his hands. He felt warmth on his face, alien blood running down his skin. He was covered in it.
The pirate lay still on the deck, his face a broken mess of gore. Blood gurgled from his mouth and eyes and countless cuts on his face. One of the alien’s fingers twitched, a dying spasm, nothing to be afraid of.
Jerry took one last look at the alien, then pushed himself to his feet. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He leaned back against one of the rover’s over-sized tires, steadying himself. He found the pistol, tucked it into his waistband, and headed for the bridge. He still had work to do.
****
Another explosion ripped through a something in the distance. Carson ducked as she stepped out into the alley. Several fighters flew past in the night sky above, cannons spitting out streams of energy at unseen enemies. A sporadic thumping of impact tremors echoed in all directions.
Several blocks away, an explosion ripped apart a high-rise office building. Large pieces of twisted steel beams, thousands of shards of glass and flame rained down on the streets below. A deep groaning noise rolled down the street as the top section began to lean over. Support beams snapped and concrete crumbled as the tower collapsed, finally breaking free of the bottom half and slamming into the street below. A massive cloud of dust and debris sprayed into the air in all directions, moving down the stre
et like a charging hurricane.
Aliens of all shapes, sizes, and colors fled through the streets, some carrying armloads of belongings, others simply running for their lives. Drop pods slammed into buildings, the street and crowds indiscriminately, disgorging squads of Netherguard that immediately began cutting down any survivors in their wake.
“Chief!” Nunez called, stepping around her, motioning to an open parking garage across the alley.
The slate-grey door had been rolled up; the frightened Zeis prisoners huddled near the back behind a six-wheeled ground car and three air bikes. Moretti and Birch were helping Jena to calm the freed prisoners.
“On me,” Carson said, stepping inside the garage. She held up the pad. “We’ve got a possible location on the Valiant. Only problem is, it’s halfway across the city. And we’re going to have a hell of a time getting there with all this going on.” She motioned to the sky with a finger.
Another explosion sounded in the distance, followed by screams of pain and gunfire.
“We can take these,” Moretti offered, patting the front faring on one of the airbikes. “Controls look basic enough and it’d be safer than using anything on the ground.” He swung a leg over the bike, settling onto the padded seat. The small craft had sleek lines, silver and orange painted side fairings and a clear windshield. Each bike was set up to carry two.
“I don’t like the idea of using unfamiliar equipment, especially when we’re in a hurry and there’s an invasion going on.” She turned to the Zeis. “Do you have any idea who might be attacking?”
“They are Ultari,” Jena said, holding out her pad. “We’ve been getting updates from DIN Central ever since the attack began. But they’ve never made an attack like this before. Never against a Regulos outpost this size.”
Carson took the pad, her blood running cold as she watched the video on the screen. The video was shaking and unfocused, but the image was unmistakable. “Netherguard,” she said through clenched teeth, watching one of the creatures climb out of a drop pod.
“Shit,” Nunez said, walking to the front of the garage, checking the alley. “What’d they do, follow us here?”
Carson shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Right now, we need to get our ship back and find our people. Jena, do you have a ship?”
The woman nodded. “It’s hidden at our compound six blocks from here.”
“Okay, take your people to safety. We’ll—”
“No,” Jena said, interrupting Carson.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m going with you to find Abendu.”
“Listen, I understand—”
“It’s not up for discussion. I’ve been searching for him a long time. He took something that belongs to me and I mean to have it back,” the Zeis said.
The whine of an engine spinning up filled the garage and the bike Moretti was on lifted off the ground. He grinned, balancing the bike under him, one booted toe on the ground. He thumbed the throttle, revving the engine.
Carson knew she was out of options. “Son of a bitch.”
A flight of fighters screamed past overhead, cannons blazing, energy bolts chewing through a cluster of Ultari drop pods, but even as six exploded, twenty more appeared to replace them in wave after wave.
“We don’t have much time,” Birch said.
“Can your people make it back to your ship?” Carson asked Jena.
“Kin will get them to safety,” Jena said, putting a hand on the only Zeis male in the group.
“We have a ship ready to leave,” Kin said.
Moretti worked the controls, turning the bike, testing the accelerator. “Oh, yeah, this is nice.”
Carson turned to Nunez. “I really hope you know how to fly one of these.”
Nunez laughed, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “Oh, yeah,” he said, holding out his rifle for Carson. “Piece of cake.”
He slid one leg over and adjusted himself on the seat. Moretti pointed to the starter and Nunez pushed it without hesitation. The engine whined, spinning up. It lifted off the ground slightly and Nunez laughed, adjusting his position on the seat.
West climbed onto the last bike and held it steady as Jena got on behind him.
“Throttle, brake,” Moretti said, pointing.
“Got it.” Nunez thumbed the throttle and the bike lurched forward. Carson had to jump out of the way to keep from getting run over.
“Damn it, Nunez!” Carson shouted, slapping the front of the bike.
“Heh, she’s a little touchy.”
Another explosion echoed in the distance.
“They’re getting closer,” West said.
Carson climbed on behind Nunez, wrapping her arms around his waist. “If you kill us, Nunez, I will haunt you ‘til the end of time.”
Moretti walked his bike into the alley. The engine revved and the bike lifted into the air slightly, then drifted back down, hovering about a foot off the ground. “Ready.”
Carson’s IR chimed. Her eyes widened as she saw who was calling. “It’s the Valiant.”
****
“Chief Carson, its Jerry Hale,” Jerry said, leaning forward in Valiant’s pilot seat, adjusting the headset over his ears.
“Jerry?" Carson asked. “What happened? Where are you?”
Jerry tried to rub some of the blood from around his mouth. “I don’t know. Some big, mouse-eared-looking guys hijacked the ship, took the crew hostage. They missed us. I think we have the ship secure now, but I don’t have any idea where we are. And Popov’s hurt pretty bad.”
“What’s wrong with her? Who’s us?”
“Me and Elias. Popov got shot while we were taking back the ship. We patched her up the best we could, but she’s not looking too good.” Jerry looked down at the wounded Pathfinder, slumped over in the co-pilot’s chair to his right. “We need to get her some help.”
“Okay,” Carson said. “Try to stay calm. We’re on our way to you. Do you have access to the ship’s systems?”
Elias nodded.
“Yes,” Jerry said.
“Find the emergency beacon protocols in the ship’s security systems and activate it. We think we have a good idea of where you are, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure.”
Elias went to work on the terminal, fingers dancing over the keys.
“Do you know where the rest of the crew is?” Carson asked.
“No,” Jerry said, shaking his head. “They took them off the ship as soon as we landed. We haven’t seen them since.”
“Okay, that’s priority number one. We need to patch into the buildings’ systems and try to locate our people.”
“How do we do that?”
“I’ve got a local tech expert collocated with me. She says there’s a direct interface to the building’s computer core near the landing pad. You need to bridge a data link from the Valiant to me and she’ll hack in. The bridge is in one of our supply crates in the bay,” Carson said. “It’s marked Tactical Communication Equipment. Go see if you can find it.”
“Go,” Elias said to his brother. “I got the bridge.” He adjusted the mic near his mouth. “Say, Chief, how we going to tap the aliens’ computers? These Mickey-looking aliens don’t strike me as technological peers with the Ultari.”
“My tech expert says the whole galaxy runs off of Ultari computer code. We integrated with it for the engines, should work.”
“Should work, she says.” Elias shrugged.
The smell of blood was thick in Valiant’s cargo bay. Jerry sorted through several crates, trying hard to ignore the destroyed alien corpse. He finally found it and opened the lid. He found the small hard-plastic case marked “DIB.”
“Okay,” Jerry said, popping the locking clamps open. “I found it. Now what?”
“All you have to do is find a system interface panel and hardwire in.”
A loud bang echoed through Valiant’s bay. Jerry jumped, almost dropping the device. “Oh, shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Carson asked.
Elias’s voice came over the ship’s IR. “I think they’re trying to force their way inside.”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Jerry said. “Is there another way off this ship? The cargo ramp isn’t an option.”
“There should be a small access hatch at the nose of the ship,” Carson said. “Should be just big enough for you to fit through. You’ll have to use the ship’s maintenance corridors to get there. To get to those, you—”
“I know where they are,” Jerry said, interrupting her.
“Okay, we’re heading your way. Get that patch installed and find the crew. We’re about fifteen minutes out.”
“Roger that, Chief,” Jerry said, feeling like a true Pathfinder.
“Carson out.”
Several more vibrating bangs echoed through Valiant’s hull as Jerry found his way to the access panel at the far end of the central tunnel. The hatch was at the bottom of a short tube extending down to the underside of the ship. Elias opened the hatch from the bridge and Jerry climbed down the ladder, stopping just inside the opening.
He adjusted the small tool kit he’d found and keyed his throat mic. “Are they all still near the ramp?”
“Yes, most of them. A couple are standing out under the starboard wing,” Elias answered. “They’re getting pretty pissed off, I think.”
“No kidding.”
“I think I found where you can patch in though.”
Finally, Jerry thought. Some good news.
“There are several junction access boxes on the east side of the roof, off to our port side, about twenty meters away. You should be able to patch the bridge there.”
“Great, how do I get there without getting shot at?”
“I think… yeah, I can vent some exhaust from the engines and give you a little bit of cover. Won’t be much, but it’s something.”
“Better than nothing,” Jerry said. He took a deep breath. “I’m going left out of the hatch, yeah?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Jerry froze. “Right? Not left?”
“No, sorry, left. Left is correct.”
Jerry shook his head. “Okay, I’m ready when you are.”
