by Finn Gray
No, she was still flying.
“Sorry about that, Sabre,” Recess said.
“What just happened?” she asked, bringing her Cobra about to see the smoking remains of a stealth ship drifting away.
“Gods!” she said. “That thing was behind me? RADS never caught it.”
“Not completely,” he said, “but I kept seeing a weird flicker and then it occurred to me what it might be so I…”
“…took off, abandoning your wingman!” Smoke said.
“Anyhow, by the time I got a visual on the stealth ship, it was already so close to the fleet that I couldn’t wait a second longer,” Recess finished.
“Bullshit,” Sabre said. “You were afraid I’d make the kill before you.”
“All right,” Recess said. “Next one’s yours.”
“Thanks.” She let out a tired sigh. “We need to let the commander know that the Memnons tried to double-cross us.”
Stone Mountain Base, Hyperion
“What in the hells is going on, Lieutenant?” Holloway snapped. Officially, Memnons did not believe in multiple gods or multiple hells, but old habits die hard, so the vernacular stuck.
“Patients out of bed,” Sexton said.
“That can’t be all. Things are going haywire all over the base. A few stray patients couldn’t cause that kind of chaos.”
Sexton quirked an eyebrow. “Several armed patients could. I guess they surprised and overwhelmed some of our guards. They got their hands on some explosives. Went directly to security headquarters and blew it all to hell. Security is operating blind now. Can’t access the network, and that means…”
“No cameras,” Holloway finished. “What does that mean for us?”
As if in reply, shouts and gunfire sounded outside the command center door.
“They’re coming for the Nyx!” Nyx was a cutting-edge weapon that had only recently been completed. Named for the Aquarian goddess of the night, her powerful beam caused artificial grav systems to feedback, spiking to the point that the resulting fusion set off a chain reaction. It was death to any ship, but even deadlier for a group of ships clustered together. A fleet, for example.
“What do you want me to do?” Sexton asked.
Someone hammered on the door. It was sturdy steel, but was not designed to hold up under extreme duress. This control center had been a late addition to the base, coming after the Memnons had taken complete control.
Holloway considered his options. The weapon they controlled had the potential to bring an end to the imperial fleet. They were waiting for the signal to fire, which would only come when the Memnons’ own forces had corralled the Aquarian fleet and driven them close enough together that Nyx could take them out with a single shot. That hadn’t happened yet.
“Captain?” Sexton prompted.
Another thud at the door. Louder this time. If security didn’t sweep these invaders away soon, the command center was in trouble. He and Sexton each carried a sidearm. Nothing more. Not knowing what awaited them on the other side of the door, he was reluctant to take the risk. He made a decision.
“Find us a target.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. If we lose control of Nyx, not only will we miss the chance to deal the Aquarians a crippling blow, she could be turned against our own ships. I’d rather destroy a fraction of the enemy than nothing at all.”
Sexton stared at him for another second. The weapon’s core would burn out after a single shot. They were working on more, but unanticipated delays meant it would be months before they were ready.
“I take full responsibility, Lieutenant,” Holloway said. "Just find us a target.”
Sexton nodded and hurried to the control panel. He began furiously tapping screens, checking positioning. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, he tapped the largest screen and the image of a starcruiser filled the screen. It was in the middle of a furious battle, trying to drive off a Memnon dreadnought and its support ships. Several smaller imperial vessels were involved in the fight, as were a mass of fighters.
“Dragonfly,” Sexton said. “She’s one of the most powerful ships still afloat, and she’s protecting a large number of civilian ships as well as smaller military craft. What’s more, spies report that at least one of the surviving imperial princesses is on board.”
“Perfect,” Holloway said. “Ready the weapon. I’ll notify our fleet. We don’t want our birds anywhere near Dragonfly or else they might get caught up in the chain reaction.”
He took a deep breath. His superiors did not know about the delay in developing reserve cores. Holloway had kept that a secret, hoping that they might, by some miracle, finish the job before the Memnon fleet arrived. If they could make this shot count, perhaps that would earn him a measure of grace from their new leaders.
“Captain!” Sexton barked. “It looks like somebody is trying to disable the weapon.”
“What do you mean?” Holloway hurried to Sexton’s side.
A security vid showed two men standing on the roof of the base, looking down at the Nyx. He recognized one immediately.
“Is that Oates? That son of a bitch.” He turned to Sexton. “Security will be no good to us. Take control of the defense drones and put those bastards out of commission. I’ll handle the weapon myself.”
Holloway felt a thrill of excitement as he took over control of the weapon. Throughout the uprising, he’d been stuck in this base in the middle of nowhere, unable to help, waiting for the moment his masterpiece was put into play. He smiled. The time had finally come.
Chapter 40
Battlecruiser Cronus
“How is it coming, Dawson?” Laws paced the bridge while Talia’s speech, turned down just a notch above hearing, droned on. The man had no idea that the bridges of Cronus and Dragonfly comprised the entirety of his audience.
A few minutes in and it had proved to be the usual spiel: equality of opportunity, merit over heritage. She’d heard it all before. Still, she was in no great hurry for the speech to end. They were in a race against time to execute the plan she and Graves had formulated. When Talia stopped speaking, the attack would commence. But if Dawson could crack this in time, she’d like their chances a lot better.
“I’ve got control!” Dawson proclaimed.
Laws pounded a fist into her open palm. Finally, it was her turn to surprise Graves. She called him on a vidstream rather than wireless. She wanted to see his face.
“Commander Graves, we’ve made a slight adjustment to the plan. When the attack begins, the civilian fleet is to move inside the satellite defense network and prepare to jump when the Brick is destroyed.”
Graves frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s an auxiliary control center in orbit. It’s remotely operated. Dawson, my science officer, accessed the system as soon as we came within range, and has been waiting to seize control. Then, a few minutes ago, the control center went off-line.”
“Hunter did it!” Graves slapped his console. “But you could have told someone else about the auxiliary center, just in case.”
“Oh, I did. I just didn’t tell you. I thought I’d make it a surprise.”
“Touché, admiral.”
A voice cut in on their conversation. It was Iku, Dragonfly’s science officer. “Sirs, we’re picking up an insane infrared signature from the surface. Something is generating massive energy and concentrating it in one spot.”
“Where?” Laws snapped.
“On Soria. I searched the coordinates and there’s a conspicuous absence of information about that coordinate and the surrounding area.”
“Black ops,” Laws said. “No telling what could be down there.”
“This must be why they were content to box us in and let us sit quietly while Talia gives his speech. I’ll bet they’ve built some kind of weapon that they believe can cripple us with one blow!” Graves said. “Admiral, you’ve got to order the fleet to move.”
<
br /> Laws knew he was right.
“Issue the new orders to the civilian fleet. The attack begins now! Let’s just hope we’re in time!”
Stone Mountain Base, Hyperion
Oates careened down the steep, curved surface of the Nyx. He felt like he was being flushed down the drain. Up above, he heard the sharp report of gunfire as Tama attempted to bring down the drones that homed in on his position.
As he shot toward the gaping hole at the center of the weapon’s dish, he suddenly wondered if he would be able to arrest his descent. The metallic surface was slick, hot from the sun, and burned his palms as he pressed down, trying to apply the brakes.
At a distance the opening had appeared quite small, but now he saw it was just large enough for a man to fall into. Just my luck.
The drones were closer now and Oates wondered if the Memnons would actually fire on their own weapon in an attempt to bring him down. His question was answered an instant later as rounds pinged off the metal surface scant meters away from him.
He tried to change his direction, but could gain no purchase on the surface. This was not going the way he had hoped.
Just stay alive long enough to blow their shit up.
Another spray of small arms fire swept across his path. Another miss. They were using ordinary bullets, but apparently dared not risk exploding rounds. A small comfort given the circumstances.
One of the drones suddenly appeared up ahead of him, slowly sinking down directly into his path. Oates twisted, trying to roll to the side before it opened fire. But the next sound he heard was not the rapid fire of a drone, but the report of a pistol, a metallic ping, and a low whine as the drone spun off course. By bringing the drone down low, the Memnons had inadvertently given Tama a clear shot at the whirling blades that held it aloft, and he had hit his target cleanly. It was one of the few reliable ways to bring down a drone using small arms fire. The drone veered off course and disappeared from sight.
The gaping hole was coming up fast and Oates set all his efforts to slowing himself down before he plunged to certain death. He absently wondered if, should he fall, he’d have time to arm a grenade before he struck bottom. Best not to try it out if he could avoid it. He spread his arms and legs wide and pressed down. It made him a bigger target for the remaining drone, but gave him more surface area in contact with the ground.
He felt himself gradually slowing down, but it wasn’t enough. He was still sliding too fast. He pressed the back of his head down against the metal, felt his hair ripped from his scalp, dug his fingernails into the metal, or tried to, but they could find no purchase.
Stop! he told himself, as if he could will it to be so.
Slowing, slowing.
Not enough. He slipped out over the edge.
A brief sensation of falling, and then he managed to catch hold of the metal lip that ringed the hole. He hung there for a second, gasping for breath.
In the distance he heard Tama call out a warning.
“They’re coming through!”
The whine of the drone grew louder. His fingers, slicked with blood and sweat, began to slip.
I’m going to fail. I’m going to fall to my death down this pitiful little shaft that I’d never have fit into had it been just a bit narrower.
Suddenly he barked a laugh.
“Dumbass.” He realized the shaft was narrow enough that he could easily brace himself inside. He pressed his booted feet against the sides and immediately felt the pressure on his arms subside as his legs took on the burden of his weight.
Just then, the shaft began to tremble. Down below he heard a metallic whine and green light filled the shaft.
“Gods damn it! They’re about to fire this thing.”
The drone was closer now, firing shots that missed wildly. This was the moment.
He pulled a grenade from his belt and pulled the pin. His only hope was that one of his grenades would reach the weapon’s energy core before exploding. Lifting an insincere prayer to all the gods, except that of the Memnons, he dropped it down the shaft. As quickly as he could, he grabbed the second one, armed it, and hurled it downward with all his might.
Beneath him, the whine grew louder and the light brighter as the weapon continued to fire up.
More out of instinct than any real hope of survival, he hauled his bulk out of the shaft and rolled to the side as bullets fired from a drone raked the surface of the Nyx. He had a brief moment to wonder if he could possibly climb out of this giant dish, before a deafening boom filled his ears. A blinding column of green-white fire burst from the weapon, singeing his hair. The surface beneath him rocked and then gave way as the detonation of the weapons core destroyed the supports beneath the dish. As he fell, Oates lay back and smiled. He had done it.
Chapter 41
Stone Mountain Base, Hyperion
“We’re getting ready to launch,” Peyton said. “Everyone buckled in?”
“Cap’s still not here,” Becca said. “We have to wait.”
It took Rory a moment to remember she was talking about Oates. “I’m sorry, but we can’t wait any longer.” Despite the waves of sympathy and regret washing over him, he kept his tone firm. Oates had no intention of returning, and to wait any longer meant risking everything.
“You can’t leave him to die.”
“Ramp is coming up,” Park called out.
“I’m staying, then. Let me out.” Becca began unbuckling the straps that held her fast to her seat.
“No.” Rory, seated alongside her, seized her wrists. “He wanted it this way. He made me promise I’d get you out of here no matter what happened to him.”
“He had no right,” Becca said. “Neither of you control my decisions.”
Rory looked around for backup, another voice of reason. Marson was in the cockpit with Peyton and Park. No help there.
“I’ve got news for you,” Rory said. “Even if I hadn’t made a promise to Oates, I still wouldn’t let you stay behind. The world is coming to an end, and what’s in your head might be critical to the survival of humankind. Like it or not, you’re a valuable asset.”
Tears streaming down her face, Becca stopped fighting. She slumped back into her seat and let Rory secure her again.
A low rumble filled the air as the access ramp that led up into the cabin began to rise.
“I hate you both,” Becca muttered.
“If it makes you feel any better, I hate myself for this.”
He felt the transport began to lift off the ground. Over the whine of the engine, he heard metallic pings on the starboard side of the hull.
“Security has arrived,” Park announced from the copilot’s seat.
Rory looked out to see three guards dash into the hangar and open fire. Two of them carried only handguns. They’d be of no use against the transport’s armor. But the third carried a rocket launcher.
Rory drew his sidearm and made a dash for the ramp that was already halfway up.
“Where are you going?” Becca called.
“Don’t wait for me!”
He plunged feet-first down the ramp. His momentum began to slow as it continued to rise. He flattened himself out and slid through with millimeters to spare.
He fell hard to the ground, but he scarcely felt the pain. If the transports didn’t get away unscathed, that meant no help for Jemma and his squad.
The security detail were so focused on firing on the transports that they hadn’t noticed him. Still, time was short. He took quick aim at the tall woman whose finger was poised over the trigger of the rocket launcher.
He was the finest shot in his recruiting class, but with a handgun, it was difficult to hit the bullseye at this range.
Gods be with me.
He squeezed the trigger.
The bullet found its mark right between her eyes. She fell, the launcher thudding to the ground.
Thank you, Sergeant Clancy. You were a fine instructor even if you were a Memnon bastard.
In th
e chaos of gunfire and ship engines the other guards didn’t realize what had happened until Rory had eliminated them as well. He did it in three shots, the best shooting of his life.
“If only Sergeant Trent could have seen that.”
Above him the transport rose. He ducked away from the heat of its exhaust and ran to safety. He snatched up a rifle dropped by one of the fallen security guards, then turned and watched the transport sail away. He found that he was, if not exactly okay with it, at peace. He hadn’t saved Caryn, but he’d done his best to save his friends. And maybe humankind would survive, too.
On the other side of the bay, the engineers who had taken cover during the gunfight emerged and looked around in bewilderment. Every one of them had an enhancement of some sort.
Anger surged through him. The Memnons had now taken everything from him. He was determined to use the time he had left to exact as much revenge as humanly possible. Grinning, he took aim and fired.
“What just happened?” Peyton shouted as the transport began to rise. “Where’s the farmboy or whatever he calls himself?”
Becca swallowed hard, blinked away the tears. No sooner had she learned that Cap was alive than she had lost him again. She supposed she deserved no better from the universe. After all, she’d spent all these years doing the Memnons dirty work for them. Who was she to expect a happy ending?
“He abandoned ship,” Becca said.
“What?” Park’s head snapped around as the craft lurched forward. “Why in the hells would he do a thing like that?”
“To save our lives.” She glanced out the porthole at the three Memnons lying in pools of their own blood. And then Rory came dashing out from beneath the transport and scrambled for cover. “Thank you,” Becca whispered. Tears came again at the thought of leaving the brave young man behind, the harsh words she had spoken to him earlier forgotten.
As they shot out into the sunlight and curled skyward, Something down below caught her eye.
