Half-Alien Warfighter (Lady Hellgate Book 3)

by Greg Dragon

  “What did you just say?”

  “We were right about the indoctrination. They have someone in custody, and I wanted to be the one to tell you. It is our rescue, the cadet we pulled out of that explosion. Whoever the lizard was that took her mind, he or she is knowledgeable of our controls. She not only hacked the medbay comps to make us think she was in a tank, but she made it to engineering and put our radar on a loop. We’ve been blind until you found that dreadnought, and maker knows what else she’s managed to do.”

  “How did we catch her?” Helga said, putting a bloody knuckle up to her mouth.

  “Toro Hanes discovered the loop, and it was confirmed when we engaged the destroyer. He showed me the holo-map, and nothing was being displayed, even with the destroyer right there in front of us. A little girl almost cost us everything, Helga, all because she didn’t have anyone who cared enough to report her absence.”

  “I was that little girl, once,” Helga said. “It’s easy to disappear, believe me. I had a thought to look in on her when I went to visit Tutt, but she did a good job of covering her tracks. Man, this has to be the wickedest of lizards to take over that poor child’s body. I feel cold; how could we be this compromised on so many levels? How’s the captain taking it, do you know? He has to be tearing out his hair over this.”

  “Like me, he’s probably regretting not taking more action when we were searching for the invader. Anyway, it’s done, and all we can do now is move forward. Commander Nam is waiting, and I’m sure he has a plan. Wait, let me see that,” he said, taking her hands. “Do you need a medic? This hand looks swollen.”

  Helga stared at him holding her hands and considered shifting her hips forward to show him what she wanted. Logic defied why she thought of this now, when they were on the brink of losing everything they knew, and she could feel her impulse winning out until her hand shot back to fumble for the door.

  When she was back in the passageway with him following her out, she touched her heart, relieved that she hadn’t committed to her actions. She had reached back to lock the door, but decided at the last second to seek an escape instead. With the way she felt, she was desperate for a release, and she would have had him out of his pants before either of them would have been able to stop it.

  Her head was spinning as they walked, and she could feel him behind her, wondering if he realized what had happened. It would have been wrong had they done it, as much as it would have been mind-blowingly wonderful. Just another secret to add to the ones they already kept, but a betrayal of the trust that she had with Joy Valance.

  A part of her felt that he would have rejected her, either way. She wasn’t Joy, no matter how close the two of them were, and he was her CO, and there was a line. Maybe she could have convinced him that it was not that serious, just another exercise to help her heal, but that was hubris. He was Commander Cilas Mec, and to entertain that sort of scandal wasn’t in him.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Helga?” he said. “You seem agitated somehow.”

  Shut up, Cilas, she thought. Just shut up and let me suffer. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m okay. I’ve had bruised knuckles before. I’m just thyped up in the head, but that’s nothing new, am I right?” she said, forcing herself to laugh.

  19

  Jit Nam stood before an expansive holographic display, watching it replay the Rendron’s fight with the dreadnought. Helga observed him studying it intently, as if it was a puzzle in need of solving. Behind him were 36 chairs lined up in rows facing the podium, where the officer in charge would usually brief the pilots.

  The holographic battle was playing out above this arrangement, obscuring the podium and a part of the XO’s head, and Helga saw that Quentin and Raileo were seated in the front. The place was neat, another surprise. Normally there would be discarded ration packs, jackets draped over chairs, and things shifted out of place due to negligence.

  Being sloppy was counter to what they had all been taught since childhood. “Leave a compartment looking as if you were never in there,” was the code that the aces on the Rendron seemed to forget. There was no question, the state of the briefing room was due to Jit Nam becoming XO.

  It was a good thing, and Helga liked it, a return to the staunch discipline of the Navy. She was beginning to understand why the position had been given to Jit Nam. The SoulSpur—the infiltrator he commanded—had been one of the most disciplined ships in the Alliance. Jit’s promotion and a few choice words would have had the pilots swabbing this deck.

  “Commander Mec and Lieutenant Ate, welcome,” the tall man said before turning slowly to face them. They saluted briskly, and he motioned for them to take a seat, but Helga noticed his eyes linger for a second. Immediately she became self-conscious, knowing that her appearance was in disarray.

  She stole a glance at one of the monitors, and what she saw turned her cheeks red. Her hair was a mess from where the helmet had been removed, and there was dried blood on her cheek. Thank you, Cilas, she thought, annoyed, and then quickly used the tip of her sleeve to wipe the sides of her face.

  “That must’ve been one hell of a battle,” Raileo whispered, and she patted him gently on his leg. He assumed she’d bled from being tossed inside the cockpit, which was a much better story than her attacking the defenseless console with her fist. He was seated on her left now, with Quentin Tutt on the other side of him. Cilas took the chair on her right, so she straightened up and doused the rage that still burned inside her chest.

  “Before I start, I would like to thank you Nighthawks for your continued assistance during this period of trouble,” the XO said. “The information you shared on Geralos indoctrination may have saved the Rendron, and your presence during this investigation has been recognized.”

  “Thank you, sir,” they said in unison, each voice barely a whisper.

  “We were caught off guard by the lizards, and a lesser starship would have been lost.” He froze the holo display at the moment when the aces docked, and Helga was the last one remaining, which made her bristle in preparation of a lecture. “You saw it didn’t you?” he said, looking directly at her.

  “I did, Commander. I saw two more warships drop out of cloak. They were destroyers, but they didn’t look like Geralos. I didn’t get to study them for more than a few seconds, but I thought that they were Alliance ships.”

  “They intended to confuse us, but they made a crucial mistake. An Alliance vessel would announce itself, even if cloaked and pursuing the enemy. Those ships knew our radar was compromised, and attempted to flank us to disable our FTL. Those warships were the Apogee and the Tsungton Vista, two destroyers from the original Vestalian fleet. I believe that the only reason we were able to survive was because they want the Rendron intact.”

  “Excuse me?” Cilas said, leaning forward with his muscular right arm resting on his knee. “The lizards are commandeering old Alliance starships?”

  “They are, and until we come out of light speed to speak to the Alliance council, we need to be ready for more of their deception. I am confident that our leaders are aware that our old ships are being re-purposed. The Geralos are desperate, so they are employing espionage, and as you can see teams like yours are the only ones equipped to combat this new offensive.”

  “Those slimy lizards,” Raileo said, seeming to forget where he was. “We whip them and what do they do? Fight dirty, in the mud.”

  “They are quite adept at handling change, Chief Lei,” the commander said, “and while I do wish we had the means to stop the indoctrination, we haven’t lost the war just yet. They fight dirty, but we’re allied, and one planet against five is doomed to fail, one way or another. Do not let them fool you that they’re anything more than parasites looking for a Vestalian host. We don’t have to become them, Chief, we just have to use our advantages.”

  “Apogee and Tsungton,” Cilas said under his breath. “Weren’t those ships destroyed, Commander? I remember reading about them, and the rumors that they were now ghost ship
s.”

  “They went missing, which spawned those rumors, and we assumed they were gone. You see the proof.” The commander reanimated the holo-display, stopping it once more when two new vessels appeared on the far side of the Rendron. “They’ve been repurposed by the Geralos with the sole purpose of confusing our starships.

  “I’m a man that likes to get ahead of things, Nighthawks, and before, when your commander was out of commission, I asked you to look out for the agitators in the crew. Now, there is a delicate mission that the captain and I would have you on. It deals with the cadet who now plays host to a Geralos invader.”

  “What would you have us do, Commander?” Cilas said, his face a mask of determination.

  “Though many of us would want nothing but to rid that poor child of the lizard, the captain has ordered that we keep her alive until we reach Alliance space. This will be a challenge if any word gets back to the crew on this, so what I say stays here. Discretion is partially why you’ve been selected for this mission. In the next few cycles we want you to take some time off, officially. We have run you ragged since your return from Meluvia, and you all have been in rotation with the medbay.

  “Take the next seven cycles to catch your breath, and stay out of the cockpit, Lieutenant Ate. You are ordered to play at civilian, even if we get into conflict that requires our aces. Spend some time with your loved ones; see a show; catch your breath. We’ll be cruising for a time before making the jump to Alliance space.”

  “Commander, about the mission,” Quentin said. “Where are we to take the indoctrinated cadet?”

  “Sanctuary, Alliance HQ; you will ship off in exactly seven cycles to deliver the child to the council. There they can study her to find a counter to these attacks. You all know as well as I do just how helpless it feels, to be fighting an enemy that can rob us of our mind.”

  “Sanctuary’s real?” Helga said, confused. It was the first time she had heard it confirmed from someone who actually knew.

  “It is real, but the location is classified, which is why you will be taking one of our corvettes.”

  “Oh,” Helga whispered excitedly. “Which corvette, Commander?”

  “The Ursula. It’s being serviced as we speak. For those of you who don’t know her, the Ursula was one of our original deep space scouts. There used to be three that accompanied the Rendron, back before the infiltrator program. She has limited capacity—corvettes aren’t war cruisers meant to house hundreds—but she is fast and she is stealthy, which is why Captain Sho is giving her to the Nighthawks.”

  Helga and the other two Nighthawks exchanged quick glances with their team leader. “Did I just hear that right?” Helga blurted out suddenly. “We’re being given a corvette classed vessel? Is Commander Mec to be the captain?”

  Jit Nam nodded, and Helga found herself stunned. He was being casual with his delivery, but what he was saying was unbelievable. They would be on their own and away from Rendron for the majority of their missions moving forward. She was sure this meant that they would be busier, since they would answer directly to Cilas Mec.

  It was too good to be true, and she wondered if Cilas had known. But the change in his color betrayed the fact that he too was surprised.

  “Thank you, Commander,” he managed to say. “We understand the delicacy of this mission, and the need to keep it tight. I assure you that as Nighthawks, nothing will be discussed outside of this team and command. As to this corvette and her crew, do we know who else will accompany us? I imagine that we’ll need a medic, and a pilot who knows the systems.”

  Helga bristled at his words. Did he forget that she was a pilot? But then she remembered that she was a Nighthawk first, and would be pulled onto missions, leaving the Ursula vacant. A primary pilot—more seasoned than she was—would make things easier, and she could be in charge of their drops.

  Oh, she thought, placing an injured hand on top of the other. In all of her selfish hopes for this vessel, she hadn’t considered that Cilas would want to bring along his girlfriend. Joy Valance was qualified to pilot their corvette, and her Revenants would then serve as its personal defense squadron. But, would Retzo Sho allow this, given their very public relationship? She now understood his reaction, and why he seemed hesitant to accept the promotion.

  “There will be time to iron out details, Commander Mec, and we look forward to having those talks with you in the upcoming cycles,” Jit Nam said. “As to the cadet, she isn’t to be harmed, not from the Rendron’s crew or the Geralos. They took that poor child and made her into an abomination, but in doing so we now have a prisoner trapped inside of that innocent body. This is monumental, Nighthawks, a way for us to get ahead. Do you understand everything I’ve said to you today?”

  “We do, Commander Nam,” said Quentin, who was now so hunched over that Helga wondered if he was in pain. Like Cilas, he didn’t seem too thrilled about being assigned to the corvette. Raileo, however, was all smiles and anticipation, even nodding happily when her eyes connected with his. Helga wondered if Quentin had a lover on the Rendron, but he was such a closed book, she’d never know.

  “Do you have any other questions?” Jit Nam said, and when no one spoke up, he collected his hat. They stood up in unison and saluted, which he returned before straightening his jacket and exiting the space.

  As soon as the door closed, Helga and Raileo exploded with happiness, congratulating Cilas and themselves. Hesitantly Quentin joined in, and Cilas—being a good sport—accepted their praise. He even managed a smile as he stood there, but his eyes registered worry and something else.

  “It’ll be an adjustment,” he said, resolutely.

  “Have you been to Sanctuary, Commander?” Raileo said.

  “Not me, never. No spacer I know has been to that place. The captain and the former XO may have visited one time or another, but aside from them, I don’t really know. Hell, I was convinced the place was spacer legend.”

  “I wonder how often we’ll be required to dock with Rendron,” Helga said, then got up and walked over to the hologram to see if she could find her ship.

  “This is a good thing, Cilas,” Quentin said as he got up and rubbed at his neck. “With a ship, we can move around easily and recruit from the places we visit. Right now the only prospects we get are from the Rendron, many who will fail because they don’t have what it takes. Now we can look to other ships for potentials, and if the captain approves them, we can send them off to BLAST.”

  “Not to mention we’d get breaks,” Raileo said, staring forward as he spoke, and Helga swore that she could see sparkles in his eyes. “After a mission, we won’t have to come back here; we can spend a few cycles on our ship. We could visit one of the hubs, or even a moon, I don’t know. The fact of the matter is that we’ll be able to travel when we aren’t actively pursuing something.”

  “You all make it sound as if orders and command will vanish as soon as we have that ship,” Cilas said. “It will give us mobility, you’re right about that, but I have to warn you that it is going to be mission after mission. That ship comes with a cost, and the price is convenience. We can do all the things you say, but the Alliance will make us work for the privilege.”

  “Do you know if we’ll be able to name it something different?” Raileo said, and Helga made a warding gesture with her hands.

  “Yeah, that would be a great idea, Ray, curse our vessel before we step foot on it. Don’t you know that it is unheard of to rename a ship once she has been christened?”

  “Bah, that’s merely superstition. I was hoping we could come up with something relative to us being the Nighthawks,” he said. “How about, the Roost, or the Bird of Prey?”

  “How about, you’re out of your mind?” Helga said, as she scrounged for something to throw at him. “We’d be the laughingstock of the fleet; no really, the whole damned Alliance. What lizard’s going to fear the Roost coming out of light speed to engage them in combat? Since we’re dreaming, Tutt, what’ve you got? Sorry, I don’t
think it will happen, but just for conversation, what would you name our ship?”

  “Something menacing,” he said, rubbing the back of his shaved head. “Back home, on Genese, there’s a bird, a vicious little thing. We call it the illnyx, and it attacks anyone who gets near its territory. Doesn’t matter whether you’re a man ten times its size, you get close and that’s your eyeballs, plucked out for the evening meal. Lots of Genesians were frightened of them, and paid hunters to cull their number. Now they’re all but extinct, and it is the rarest thing to see one. Reminds me of us in many ways. We are but four yet we fight like twenty.”

  “Yeah, and if we keep it up, we too will be all but extinct,” Raileo said.

  “Don’t joke about that, Ray, the name is actually perfect,” Helga said. “I was going to suggest the Talon, but Illnyx represents us in so many ways.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” Cilas said. “It’s near impossible to rename a ship. If this were a convert or newly built acquisition, then Illnyx would be a reality, but the Ursula has a lot of history so her designation remains.”

  “Then Illnyx could be her codename, sort of like Rend, Ray, or Hellgate,” Raileo said.

  “Tutt, this reminds me, you’re due for a nickname of some sort,” Helga teased.

  “Keep your nose at the top of the cycle, Lieutenant,” he said. “We’re naming our new corvette, not me.”

  “Listen up,” Cilas said, commanding their attention. “Before we embark on this mission, I imagine that the captain will want to upgrade our ship. Jump scouts—which the Ursula was—were decommissioned before my time. I doubt much has been done to her system, so we may have to take her to Genese. If this is the case then we’ll have to be there for a time, and there’s a chance we’ll be made to take home some cargo.”

  “Not ideal,” Helga said, disappointed. She only wanted people she could trust on the team.

  “It’s not, but you know we lack the means to upgrade that corvette. We can barely repair our own vessels, we’re so low on resources. We are a wounded starship besieged, with only one intact infiltrator that still awaits a captain.”