Starfighter Down

by M. G. Herron

  Thirteen

  Elya’s eyelids shot open and he inhaled himself out of a dead sleep. His heart battered the inside of his chest. Hedgebot warmed to a burnished copper tone and darted a few feet from where Elya lay, pausing, alert, in the corner of the tent.

  Moments later there were footsteps and a man with his face draped in shadows shone a flashlight into Elya’s eyes. “Dawn,” the gruff voice said. “Get up.”

  “Already?” Elya asked. The shadow snorted and walked out of the tent without another word.

  “Be right there,” Elya called softly after the man, his own voice husky. He rolled over onto his knees, feeling every ache and pain in his body. There was a big bruise under his left rib cage that stabbed at his torso when he breathed. His legs protested as he stood. Elya checked the straps on the backpack he’d packed and secured the night before. All his scant supplies seemed to be there—the cube, his hatchet, his SB-44 blaster. He felt around on the thin cloth floor to make sure he had everything.

  Heidi and Hedrick had fallen asleep in the narrow bed, tucked into each other like spoons. Heidi wore a borrowed t-shirt which was much too large for her. She had her arms draped over her son, who stirred restlessly and groaned, muttering in his dreams.

  With a pang of guilt, Elya slipped out of the tent without saying goodbye.

  He arched his back and groaned. The fire had been banked during the night so there was only the dim glow of coals beneath a layer of fine ash. Two men with rifles slung over their shoulders walked out of a tent across the cavern and stepped outside. The stone door rested against the wall, pale sunlight shining through the opening. Elya must have slept through a lot of movement. He squinted as he walked into the sunlight and licked his chapped lips.

  Though he had stood here last night, it had been too dark to appreciate the view. Now he could see the cave mouth looked out over a vast wooded slope that angled down to the lowland forest. Elya drew his finger along the horizon, tracing the meandering path of the ravine they had climbed through last night. The place where the groundlings cornered them could be no more than two klicks away, and it was plainly visible. No wonder the priest had found them when he had. The wind roared in his ears and numbed his cheekbones. Elya zipped his jacket up to his chin. Hedgebot scampered up his left leg, crawled along his back and came to sit on top of the strap on his right shoulder.

  Elya counted six men, including the priest, waiting for him. Thom was among them, sporting a crooked smile, as was the dour Charlie and three of his comrades, a man and two grim-faced women. Every person except the priest held a rifle. One of the women who had pointed a gun at Elya last night wore a shoulder bag slung diagonally across her body. Thom passed Elya a new water bottle, which he took gratefully, squeezing a stream into his mouth.

  “Careful,” Thom said.

  Looking down, Elya realized he’d already drained a quarter of the bottle in one go. He still had another bottle in his pack, but it wasn’t full. He’d have to be more conscious of his supplies. He nodded sheepishly and capped the bottle, letting it hang at his side by the attached strap.

  “Thank you all for offering to help me,” Elya said.

  They averted their eyes, except for Thom, who gave him a thin smile, and the priest, who looked like he was presiding over a funeral.

  “Last thing we need is Imperials interfering in our business,” Charlie muttered.

  “It is in everyone’s best interest that you find your way back to the Fleet.” Father Pohl’s face showed strain around his eyes. “If we can help you do that, then we’re glad to be your guides.”

  “Let’s get me out of your hair, then.” Elya glanced back at the crescent-shaped mouth of the cave, partially blocked by the stone. Though he thought the priest was crazy to stay here during the Kryl invasion, he obviously had some skill at deterring the xeno menace’s lesser forms. Maybe Elya had been wrong. Maybe the priest knew something about how to keep safe among the Kryl that he didn’t. If this mission to stop the jamming signal failed, Heidi and Hedrick would be safer with the priest and his followers than with Elya.

  If he did get rescued, he planned to keep his promise and send a team to pick up the woman and the boy, the priest’s wishes be damned. So this really did seem like the best possible outcome from a bad situation.

  Focus on one problem at a time, he reminded himself. First, he had to un-jam the cube. Then, make contact with the Paladin. Then he would be in a position to help Heidi and Hedrick. As he’d done so many times throughout his life as a refugee, Elya forced himself to focus on just what was in front of him. Block out everything else.

  Or at least, he prepared to do so, when arguing voices drifted out of the cave. At first, Elya thought it was two women bickering, but then the boy came bursting into the sunlight and pulled up short in front of Elya, gazing up at him with tear-filled eyes.

  Elya adjusted the blaster at his hip and knelt down in front of Hedrick. He gripped the boy’s shoulders and tried to ignore the way his heart ached. “What’s wrong?”

  “It isn’t fair,” Hedrick said. “I want to go with you.”

  “I’m sorry, kid. Life isn’t fair sometimes.”

  The boy blinked, as if no one had ever shared this difficult truth with him before now. “We should be allowed to go with you!” Hedrick insisted. “I don’t want to be stuck in this cave. It’s boring.”

  “I don't want you to be stuck in the cave either.” And I certainly don't want you to be here when the Kryl hive arrives in force. Elya had to hold back a small laugh that bubbled up. Oh, to be a boy and be worried, most of all, about avoiding boredom.

  Heidi had come outside and crossed her arms, baring three angry red marks across her forearm. The boy must have scratched her in his haste to get to Elya. Her mouth was set in a hard line and her eyes gleamed—until she saw Elya gripping the boy's shoulders. She came up short and sagged back against the red stone wall, putting her hand over her mouth.

  Hedrick didn’t see her. He had his back to his mother, whose eyes Elya met her eyes when he said, “If you come with me,” —he tilted his chin in Heidi’s direction— “who will watch after your mom?”

  The boy inhaled sharply, glanced back at her. “She’ll come, too. She’d have to!”

  Elya shook his head, looked back at the men with the guns arrayed behind him. “She can’t. We could get into a firefight. Your mom isn’t trained to use a blaster or a rifle, and doesn’t have a weapon of her own.”

  “So, give her one! She’s got good aim, believe me.” He rubbed the back of his head.

  Elya smiled. ”They’re all out.” He had no idea if that was true. “I’ve got my sidearm.” He patted the SB-44 on his hip. “They took all the weapons they could spare. The rest are being left behind to protect the rest of these people—including you.”

  “Then just take me. I’m small. I won’t complain. I’ll take care of Hedgebot!”

  “Your mom would be worried sick without you. Have you ever been worried sick about somebody? So sick you couldn't eat or sleep or do anything except think about them?”

  The boy swallowed, his rebellious courage wavering. Elya didn’t know what Hedrick thought about at that moment, but something made the boy’s bottom lip tremble and his eyes brim full. Exhaling a heavy breath, he finally nodded.

  The priest stepped forward, looking down at the boy. “You and your mother will be safer here, lad. Our cavern is defensible and filled with supplies.”

  Heidi took one step forward and stopped. Elya dropped his hands from the boy’s shoulders.

  “Father Pohl,” he said. “Can you give us a minute?”

  The priest smiled kindly and nodded. Elya took Hedrick by the hand and walked him back over to his mother. In a low voice that only she and the boy could hear, he whispered, “I’ll find out where you can catch a ride off planet and make sure you get there.”

  More likely, once Elya made contact, the Fleet would send a Sabre squadron directly to the cave. But in case the priest
and followers were able to hear what Elya was saying, he didn't want them to get any ideas that he was about to violate their autonomy, so he kept it vague as he locked eyes with Heidi. “I won't leave you here. I’ll eliminate whatever is jamming the signal on my cube and then come back for you, or send someone back in my stead.”

  A double sonic boom echoed in the sky. Elya recognized it as a spacecraft breaking the sound barrier as it entered the moon’s atmosphere. Heidi, the boy, and Elya all turned their faces up and watched as an egg-shaped object arced to the left, falling beyond the ravine into the valley adjacent to where his starfighter had been scuttled.

  “Slocum’s in that direction,” Elya heard one of the men say to his comrade. “Wh—”

  At a minute shake of the priest’s head, the man swallowed his words.

  “All right,” Elya said. “Hedrick, you think you can do this for me? Stay here and protect your mother?”

  Tears streaked down Hedrick's face, but he sniffed, nodded and allowed his mother to lead him back toward the cave.

  Brave kid, Elya thought, I won't leave you here. I promise.

  He turned around, humped his pack back onto his shoulders and went to join the group.

  “We follow this ridgeline,” Charlie said “to the lookout point. You can see the whole valley from there, including where that egg just dropped.”

  “There’s a Kryl encampment in the valley,” Father Pohl said. “The overnight watch saw two more of those drop in and land within ten kilometers of each other.”

  “More groundlings,” Elya said. “I can guarantee you that. The trick will be avoiding them.”

  The men nodded as one, somehow agreeing with Elya without acknowledging him. Talkative bunch, he thought. At least they'll take me where I need to go. Only Thom seemed worried at the mention of groundlings, which confirmed for Elya that Charlie and his three heavily armed comrades must be former SDF, and used to seeing action.

  If he succeeded, he’d get a ride and come back for Heidi and Hedrick. If not, and he died out there… well, soldiers have died in war before, and still the Empire held the front against the Kryl. The war effort would go on without him. Protected in the cave, at least Heidi and Hedrick would have a fighting chance. It wasn’t satisfactory, but it would have to be good enough for now.

  The group walked in the direction Charlie had indicated, taking their first step down the trail as the local sun broke over the horizon.

  Fourteen

  Casey heard the screaming several turns before she saw the sterile white walls of the hospital corridor. There was one male voice, hoarse and high pitched, yelling at top volume the way Mick had done in the hangar. There were other voices, too, by turns placating, pleading, angry or scared.

  The Paladin tilted to maneuver itself fast enough that the artificial gravity systems took a beat to catch up. Casey caught herself as she slid into another wall.

  She stared down the final corridor that would lead her to the hospital. She started forward again, slowing her pace just slightly so she could catch her breath. Another body slammed into the wall behind her, panting heavily. Turning, she spotted the slightly plump and balding figure of Colonel Volk. He grabbed her flight jacket at the shoulder, pulled a blaster from a holster at his hip, and gestured with his free hand, pressing down towards the ground as if to say, Go slow.

  Casey saw the sense in this and slowed her pace. She met the XO’s alert, darting eyes, lids puffy like he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. The smoky scent of whisky on his breath explained why he was breathing so hard—maybe the old colonel had paused to take a sip from a flask he secreted somewhere on his person. Perhaps he’d done it to steel his nerves for the dangerous situation they were about to walk into. Regardless, the smell annoyed her. She bit her tongue, however, knowing that even if she wasn’t on thin ice with the admiral already, she couldn’t very well chastise a superior officer. She settled with growling in her throat and pushing in front of the colonel as the two of them made their way, together, towards the hospital wing.

  “Get back, voidspawn!”

  That’s when she recognized the voice. The one that had been screaming. She’d initially pegged the one yelling the loudest as the source of the conflict—Mick’s sudden downturn had primed her for that. But now she also knew the person that voice belonged to, and it chilled her blood.

  She broke into a run again.

  She flipped through possible scenarios in her mind. As far as she knew, there were no welding torches or gas canisters kept in the hospital. But there were surgical instruments capable of being used as weapons, and heavy objects with which to bludgeon people.

  “Let me go in first,” Casey said. “I don’t want the sight of that blaster to cause him to panic.”

  “Don't do anything rash.”

  Casey shot Colonel Volk a frown, noticed how the hand holding his blaster shook and said, “Why don’t you worry about yourself, sir.” He scowled at her.

  Stepping into the hospital wing, Casey was surprised to find nobody in the front waiting room. The chairs were arranged in neat and orderly rows, bolted to the floor, as most furniture in the Destroyer was. She moved quickly beyond the front desk and through a pair of sliding doors.

  That’s when the yelling shot up ten decibels and transformed into a blood-curdling screech.

  A small knot of people were gathered in the next room. One nurse was leaning against the wall clutching her right ear. Blood trickled down her neck and a doctor was pressing gauze to the wound. The other people in this room must have been patients. They wore thin, papery hospital gowns. An older man, who must have been injured in the hangar incident, dragged an IV along with him as he huddled miserably in the corner, eyes darting back and forth.

  “Which way?” Casey asked. A doctor and three patients all pointed in the same direction.

  Casey hurried forward. She’d caught her breath by now. Colonel Volk wheezed raggedly as he fought to pull air into his lungs. While Admiral Miyaru stayed almost annoyingly fit, despite being nearly sixty, Colonel Volk, ten years younger, had let himself go. This sprint across the Destroyer had taken a toll on him.

  It annoyed her that the First Officer had been sent to babysit her. Why else would Admiral Miyaru order him from the bridge right after the Kryl hive had shown up, other than to make sure that she didn’t screw something up?

  A loud crash and the sound of glass breaking rattled down the hall.

  “No, don’t!” a woman’s voice shouted.

  “Yorra?” Casey called her friend’s name as she stepped forward into the next segment of the hospital. A door slid aside to reveal a series of beds separated by curtains. A short, wiry man with wild dark hair and bloodshot eyes held Yorra’s neck in the crook of his elbow.

  “Park!” Casey shouted. “What are you doing? Let her go!”

  He held a jet injector gun to Yorra’s neck. She had several cuts along her forearms and one on her cheekbone. Shallow, but obviously painful and each was bleeding. Maybe from a scalpel? Casey marked several bladed instruments among splotches of blood dotting the floor. Yorra gripped Park’s arm and leaned away from the injector’s barrel.

  Park recovered his wits from whatever distraction hearing his name from Casey’s mouth had caused, and jammed the gun harder against Yorra’s throat.

  “This is filled with morphine. If you come any closer, this xeno spawn is dead.”

  “She’s not a xeno! That’s Yorra, your squadmate and friend.” He jammed the gun against Yorra’s throat. “Lieutenant Innovesh Park! You let her go right now. That’s an order, Naab.”

  “You Kryl bastards don’t get to give orders,” Park snarled. “You want to see one of your own die?”

  “No!” Casey shouted, her eyes going wide as she lunged forward.

  She was too slow. A blaster bolt sizzled by her ear a fraction of a second after Colonel Volk took the shot. It struck the injector gun, sending it flying backwards to shatter against the wall. Park released Yorra as he c
lutched his shaking hand in pain.

  “My finger!” he shouted.

  Casey’s eyes darted from the pieces of the gun to Park’s bloody hand, to Yorra. One of the pieces that she thought belonged to the injector twitched and she realized it was his severed finger.

  Casey lunged forward, grabbed Yorra and hauled her backward, putting herself between the woman and their crazed squadmate.

  “Gears, get out of here,” Casey ordered. “We've got this under control.”

  “I’m not leaving him,” Yorra said.

  Casey glanced over her shoulder, met the eyes of Colonel Volk and jerked her head.

  “I don’t take orders from you, Captain.” He still held the sidearm outstretched. His hands were surprisingly steady. She wondered how long the adrenaline would overcome the flaws engendered by his drinking habit.

  “Now is not the time to argue about rank, Colonel!”

  After a moment, he saw the sense of what she was suggesting, and hurried the other patients—who had been there trying to calm down Park when they burst into the room—out through the doors behind her.

  “We're not here to harm you,” Casey said, showing her hands to Park, or whatever was possessing him. Space madness did not mess around. “We’re just trying to help.”

  Park chuckled and for a second, Casey saw his old personality shining through whatever this was.

  “Oh, that’s rich,” Park said. “An Overmind herself offering to help. I’ve heard these stories before. I won't be one of your experiments!”

  Suddenly, the shouts of “xeno, xeno!” that she’d first heard from Mick, and the specific insult of “voidborn hellspawn” from Park, clicked in her brain. The space madness had a specific and surprisingly consistent point of view for possessing two very different people. She didn’t know what it meant, but it meant something.

  “Wait,” Casey said. “You honestly think I’m one of them? Park, it’s me, Raptor. Your squadmate. We’ve flown together, we’ve gambled together, we’ve told each other embarrassing childhood stories. We’re friends, man.”