She had plenty of time to wonder. They were back in “hurry and wait” mode. So far the two bogeys hadn’t changed their orbit—an orbit that kept the moon between them and the planet. Everyone assumed they’d deployed stealth satellites of some sort to keep an eye on things, so the hope was that they’d seen the robot’s in-atmosphere shuttle land, lift-off and return to the Najer. They wanted the spider to stay put, wondering and hoping that CabeX had been taken over and was now taking over his crew.
Captain Bailey, the Dauntless pilot who had accompanied the Marine transport, and one of City’s rifle squads would remain in the outpost, just in case the spider tried a sneak attack while they were sneak attacking him. Never leave your retreat unguarded seemed to be the one thing where they could all agree.
There were more good reasons for this attack than helping the robots or even saving Savlf. If the nasty arachnid got back to his region of space, he’d most likely sell information about this one, which would encourage even more pirates to filter in, turning it into a less safe, intergalactic version of Earth’s pirate-infested Caribbean. So, despite Rachel’s surprise they were doing this, she also wasn’t that surprised.
The last uncertainty was, would the comet drives, which couldn’t be tested in the hanger bay? This was resolved with Bangle’s help. They came online and were programmed with an abbreviated jump that would end on the opposite side of the moon where Arachnoid 1 and 2 lurked. The hurry followed by the wait.
And then, all they had to do was use the phase cloak to breach the ship’s hull, board the scary spider ship, rescue the princess in the creepy web, and either take control of the ship or exit stage right for more forcible interdiction by Carey’s squadron and the robot ship.
In her ear, Rachel heard City’s voice.
“All flights, we are a go. I repeat, Operation Pest Control is a go.”
Gibson activated Golf Sierra Alpha’s comet drive program, and the ship jumped. Rachel’s stomach followed a few seconds later.
At the helm of Golf Sierra Zulu, Caro City had reacted to the go order from Carey by initiating the comet drive. She knew she’d been given the stick partly because Kraye had never flown a Garradian ship, and mostly because none of them trusted him. He was not helped by his Jack Sparrow looks, kicked into high by the addition of the parrot on his shoulder. On the plus side, he lacked the pirate swagger, instead projecting a quiet confidence that had been a little dented by her request that the parrot ride along with him. He had to be picking up on the humor coming at him from everyone but his robot buddy.
Without cracking expression, her three-man fire team had managed to indicate they found it hilarious. City was finding it hard to keep her expression under control as she manipulated the controls. Good thing she’d got in her hours in a ship very similar to this one or she’d have been the one stuck behind at the base.
“May I be allowed to comprehend the humor?” Kraye asked, his voice low despite the fact they were alone on the small bridge and the hatch was closed. There was a hint of something exotic in the way he used words, and the timber of his voice that went well with the music Bangle insisted they needed as background. Like they were in a freaking elevator or something. Where ever Bangle was getting her music list from, it needed updating.
“It is a cliché on their planet for a pirate to have a parrot on his shoulder,” Sir Rupert said. “The humor is directed at both of us.”
Kraye blinked a couple of times. “Then why—”
“I will be less conspicuous being where I am expected to be.”
On Earth, Caro wanted to point out, except he did kind of look right sitting on Kraye’s shoulder.
“You would be even less conspicuous back on the outpost,” Kraye pointed out without rancor.
“But I would not be able to help from there,” the parrot responded, tucking his wings in and settling into roosting position.
Kraye blinked some more, looked about to speak, but instead pressed his lips together. Nice lips, she thought absently. Nice eyes, too, with uncomfortable depths, as if they’d seen more sadness than joy. That he had a story, she had no doubt. He was the lone human on a ship of robots. Weirdly enough, that gave them something in common. She was the one female in the Marine contingent deployed with the Expedition. There were lots of women in the Expedition, of course, but she felt odd in their midst, too.
A pity the gulf between them didn’t seem to have a bridge, but that wasn’t happening as long as neither side trusted the other. She didn’t like it, didn’t like going into a firefight with people she didn’t trust, but she’d done it in the Middle East, so she could suck it up now.
As if he felt her looking at him, his gaze edged up to meet hers almost as if he were shy.
“Is everything optimum, Sergeant?” he inquired.
“It’s all good,” City said. So far the worst bit had been deliberately trying to ram the side of the hanger bay during their systems test. This phase stuff took some getting used to. The comet drive was more than optimal. Up next, trying the phase cloak on the engineering section of their target, Arachnid X. She had confidence in her Marines on both ships and that OxeroidR was built like a moose, not to mention armed from top to toe. He probably even had laser eyes. Kraye? She’d find out what he was made of when they executed their dicey mission brief.
She knew about crap mission briefs, and this wasn’t the worst she’d seen, though it was the first with a sentient spider on their hit list. They’d seen the image of the prisoner, courtesy of Bangle. Had the AI produced it to motivate them? If it had, it had worked.
Now everyone wanted to step on the spider.
As a Marine, she was not allowed to be afraid of spiders, but she didn’t like them. She might be having trouble wrapping her brain around a spider big enough to be that evil and sentient—if you could call that kind of nastiness sentience.
So all they had to do was get on the alien ship while it was salivating over the apparent approach and surrender of the robot ship, do their thing, and either seize Arachnid Y or retreat and assist in blowing it out of space.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but perfect was a classroom thing, anyway. Real life wasn’t perfect. It was an opportunity to excel.
She triggered her comm to the rear compartment. “Lining up for the approach. Prepare to board Arachnid Y on my signal.”
Carey watched with satisfaction as Delta Tango Flight settled into a fighting formation around the Najer, designated Romeo. They still had the moon between them and the two Arachnid ships.
It might have been boring, but they’d had a front seat to see Golf Sierra Alpha and Zulu initiate their comet drive jumps. Holy freaking cow that was fast. A blink of the eye. Both Alpha and Zulu had dropped out in their pre-programmed flank positions on either side of the Arachnid ships.
The timing was going to be tight for getting there in time to be of any help if his people got in trouble. Not that he wanted to start shooting while they were on board. With any luck, they’d have taken control of both ships, and no one would be shooting anything. It was a good thing the Old Man had given him latitude in how to handle contact. If the shooting started, he’d need that latitude at his court martial.
With some luck all around, the spider would be so focused on his incoming robot prize, he wouldn’t see the other trouble until it smacked him between all his eyes.
“You could stay with the ship,” Valyr said, as Golf Sierra Alpha made its final approach toward the bogey designated Arachnid X. Please stay with the ship, he wanted to say. He liked the look of the Marines. Though few in number, they exhibited no fear. In fact, they had the air of warriors who were ready for anything.
Rachel’s gaze shifted his way, and a small, wry smile flickered on her mouth before fading. “I was going to say the same thing to you. You can do your thing from here with Bangle’s help.”
He felt his eyes widen in shock and her smile returned.
“I probably have more military training than you,” she p
ointed out. “I’m a very good shot. Even though no one believes me.”
The Marines didn’t move or alter their expressions, but somehow managed to convey skepticism about both of them.
“It’s going to take both of us to crack this system if the same person who wrote the virus code set up their system defenses,” she added.
And the two of them together had barely managed that. He knew this as she did. They also knew how nearly impossible it would be to free Savlf from the web without killing her. It appeared to have been designed to keep her alive, he and Rachel had reasoned, studying the image, with their respective medical expertise.
“I think the computer and the web are symbiotic, too.” She’d pointed out where they appeared to merge.
CabeX was his other area of concern. Was the robot with them to save her or did it want revenge for what she’d almost done? If the robot wished to kill her, there was nothing he or Rachel could do to stop him. Valyr had seen his programming and his construction. The only reason CabeX had gone down before they did was that the virus had attacked him. And if the situation had unfolded differently? Where would he and Rachel be right now?
Kraye trusted CabeX, but this was not a recommendation.
He felt the forward thrust slow the ship and found he could remember other flights in ships like this one—though none into battle. The tension that filled those around him was not something he recognized, but he sensed it was how warriors prepared for what was to come. Even Rachel seemed calm, very focused.
He looked down and saw that the heel of one foot lifted up and down, without making a sound. The music, courtesy of their piece of Bangle, had been the one about the werewolves, with the howling dogs, but it had changed into what was almost a call to arms. Drums pounding and an insistent beat. Something about a tiger’s eye and a fire. And roaring. He hoped they did not roar. This was to be a stealth mission.
Still, he found the edges of his mouth twitching. Rachel was most connected to her music. Inexplicably, he felt his muscles relax. He realized the Marines were reacting to the music, too. Suddenly they and Rachel began to sing to the music. They roared the final sounds, and then everything went dead silent. It was, he realized, a call to arms, a way to encourage each other about what was coming.
With one hand on the harness release and the other on his weapon, he watched the rear hatch as Gibson counted down over the comm.
“Three…two…one…”
The rear end of the shuttle breached the enemy ship.
“Nailed it,” Rachel murmured. “Excellent.”
It was the engineering section of the ship. None of the crew showed an awareness of their presence.
That would change very soon.
The bird was watching him. Kraye felt it though he did not look to verify this. Why had it settled on the shoulder between him and the sergeant so that he could not study this alien female? Kraye couldn’t even shift in his chair with making the bird move as well. As if it sensed it was making Kraye uncomfortable, the bird hopped onto the back of his chair.
It did not ease the feeling of bird eyes boring into the back of his head, but he was able to cast surreptitious glances at the woman.
The battle armor hid most of what was female about her though it did have some ability to conform to the wearer’s shape. She had not donned the headgear or gloves yet, so he could see her profile and observe her hands.
They were well formed, appeared strong, with long fingers that tapered at the ends. Her nails were clean, which made him wish to hide his nails. The confidence of those hands on the controls did cause him to wonder if they would be as skilled in other, more personal ways.
Her face had been fashioned with both strength and beauty, the lightness of her blue eyes heightened by the wash of color on her skin. His hands, which had no task in this cockpit, twitched with a desire to trace the full, stubborn shape of her mouth. The lips parted only when she needed to deliver crisp orders or ask pointed questions, then became a straight, yet plump line as she initiated the various maneuvers required to bring them within striking distance of Arachnid Y.
He did not have to see her eyes at this moment. He knew they’d been cool, assessing, neutral, the way they’d looked down at him when CabeX had told the other human woman that “Kraye required a female.”
His cheeks had heated then, and they warmed now at the memory of how her brows had arched, and her lips had twitched. He did not know that CabeX had noticed the need he sometimes felt for a female companion. He could wish he had not announced it to these uneasy allies. Besides, the other female did not interest him. She was small and pale. This Sergeant City was tall and strong, vibrant inside and out. She affected him differently than the women who’d offered themselves to him when he’d been dirt side arranging for trade or the sale of goods. Those women reminded him he was a human male alone with cybernetic robots.
This woman reminded him he was a man. While he did not completely understand the distinction, he felt the difference and would have liked to have had the time to discover why this was so.
It was a pity that they were probably going to die.
“Can you monitor our approach to Arachnid Y?” Sergeant City’s gaze moved methodically between the view screen and the controls.
Kraye felt the minute adjustments she made as the side of the ship grew closer. He’d seen what this ship, with this cloak, could do, but still, his muscles tensed. It was a relief to have a task.
“Approach vector is optimum,” he said. He gave her speed and distance to contact with the ship’s shields. Felt her slow their approach even more until the back of the ship barely touched the leading edge of the shields. This backward approach was necessary so that the rear hatch could be opened for the assault.
And then inertia had them sliding through the shields of Arachnid Y.
“No indications Arachnid Y is aware of our approach,” Kraye said, though she could see this for herself. The use of code names he found curious, but he accepted it because the robots did. Because their ship was Golf Sierra Zulu, their code names were Zulu with a number designating the command structure. He was Zulu2, though he knew if Sergeant City went down, it was OxeroidR who would most likely assume command.
Now the side of the ship drew closer. City—Zulu1, he used the designation to get into the habit—adjusted their track so that their orbit matched Arachnid Y’s. His mind knew there’d be no impact, but his body tensed as the back of their ship reached, then slid easily through this barrier.
“Bang on engineering,” City as Zulu1 muttered. They were radio silent with Golf Sierra Alpha, but the sentient AI was monitoring movement for them and would relay commands through their heads-up displays. It appeared that Golf Sierra Alpha had been as successful as them. “Let’s get this party started.”
Party? The word must not mean the same thing in Standard. He started slightly when the bird landed on his shoulder again.
“Surely—” he protested, but the bird cut him off.
“Surely I must.”
Just past the bird, Sergeant City gave him a look that might have been sympathetic, then she lifted her headgear and began to fit it in place. He couldn’t, he didn’t dare shrug as he secured his headgear. Gloves followed and last, he checked his weapons.
Only then did he follow Zulu1 into the rear compartment.
Even in compact mode, OxeroidR appeared to fill most of it, though the other three of the sergeant’s team were not small. What they thought was not apparent. They had already lowered their light shields, and the reflective front of their headgear did not allow him to see their faces.
Past them, he could see the engineering section of Arachnid Y, and the men that were working there, apparently oblivious to the intrusion. OxeroidR would already be marking their locations. They would go down quickly and quietly. This was the easy part.
There was the quiet whine of OxeroidR’s weapons systems deploying, audible only to anyone within inches of him.
“I will proceed first,” he said, through the comm.
Zulu1 did not object.
“Lock and load,” she said.
Her Marines lifted their weapons and activated them, then secured them against their shoulders, their miens lethally ready for battle.
They had boarded the shuttle via a ramp that lowered, but when in phase cloaking, apparently the ramp had an embedded hatch that, while smaller, slid sideways, giving them a fire solution faster.
Zulu1 held her weapon in one hand, the other on the control for the hatch.
“You have a go, team. I repeat, you have a go,” she said, calmly and pressed the button.
18
What hit Rachel first was the smell.
She should have expected it, though she had hoped their headgear would filter out the stenches and not just toxins. Still, this engineering section was the ultimate cliché of a ship of bad guys, or whatever they were. This crew appeared to be human, from what they could see, though barely. Depraved scalawags who would do anything and everything they were ordered to do.
One of the men walked over to check a gauge, passing right in front of them—and through the rear of the ship and then clear of it.
Okay, that was a little freaky.
Rachel and Valyr stayed seated until the Marines had risen and arranged themselves in front of the still closed hatch. Through the heads up display, she knew that Golf Sierra Zulu was also preparing to deploy.
CabeX emerged from the flight deck and took point. Gibson would lock down the flight deck and Golf Sierra Alpha once they were off. Bangle would—she hoped—keep communications open between all of them.
It was her do or die moment. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it was die, but Valyr rose, and she found herself standing, her knees steadier than she’d have expected. She tried the knees out with a couple of steps that took her into position behind the three Marines, Mikes 1-3, she added. The code names weren’t hard to remember, just hard to remember to use.
Lost Valyr: Project Enterprise 7 Page 23
