Renegade Rising

by J. N. Chaney

  “Let’s not get hasty,” I suggested.

  Rackham perked up. “Do you have another idea?”

  “I might,” he said, tapping my chin. “I have to talk to Dressler. I’ll call you back.” I laid the pad down and faced her.

  “Talk to me about what?” she asked.

  “The room Rackham and his team found wasn’t like this,” I told her, waving at the mobile armor nearby. “It’s some kind of lab, complete with Celestial specimens floating in giant test tubes. They’re having trouble viewing what’s inside the tubes or accessing the data. I think we should swap. The lab is more your speed, right?”

  She nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face.

  Rackham agreed, and a short while later, both teams had switched assignments. Rackham’s engineering team had only managed to get a handful of dimly lit fixtures activated, despite their best efforts. Minutes after sitting down, Dressler had already managed to activate every light in the room.

  “Ah, yes.” She sighed contentedly. “This I know. Now don’t interrupt while I catch up.”

  I went to stand by Abigail, who had taken up a position with a good vantage point of the entry, Dressler, and me. The tube with the visible specimen stayed at her back — a deliberate motion that kept her from having to look at it.

  Now that I was seeing it through my eyes instead of a crappy data pad feed, more detail stood out and curiosity drove me to have another look. The smooth silver sheath that covered the tubes wound down from the ceiling and up from the floor to meet in the middle, unfurling like a steel ribbon when opened. Inside, the Celestial floated, its movement dictated by the flow causing the bubbles. The tube was underlit, providing the observer a better view of the specimen inside.

  I understood what Rackham meant now, about expecting the creature’s eyes to pop open at any moment. The body looked like it was in a state of sleep, not death. Despite the bizarre appearance, nothing seemed wrong with it. No true deformities or the usual signs of death. Its skin was smooth and unmarred, the facial features almost serene. The Celestial wasn’t hooked up to anything that might be keeping it alive. It simply floated and turned in a lazy circle as if it had nothing better to do than hang around a tank all day.

  Like the chamber filled with the mobile armor, the pillars were arranged in neat, symmetrical rows. If Tartarus and its construction were anything to go by, the Celestials cherished perfection. Was that why this specimen and all the others had been chosen? Did each tube contain more of the same or different variations of Celestial engineering?

  Deciding I’d had my fill of weird for the moment, I joined Abigail at her self-appointed post. The shine she’d carried through the morning had faded and unease rolled off her in waves. It was easy to guess what disturbed her so. Even with the lights on, this chamber held an eerie quality that pervaded the senses. Maybe the scientists who had created this place thought covering up the tubes would make things better. It didn’t. It was still an eerie place and it gave off a chill that had nothing to do with air temperature.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” Abigail said, rubbing her arms.

  “Me too,” I told her. “I don’t get it though. Why hide it?”

  “That’s a good question. There must be something else we’re missing, either in the research they did or something they hid in the room itself. Or else why bother?” Her eyebrows drew together as she focused.

  “Captain Hughes, Abigail.” Dressler waved at us. “I’ve done it. I have access to the system.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Abigail, looking apprehensive.

  “I’m still deciphering how the commands work, but I believe I’ve broken through,” the doctor explained. “Sigmond and I began creating a master codex, but it is largely incomplete. This is an instance where touching the button without knowing what it does would be foolhardy.”

  I snorted. “Oh, look who has restraint all of a sudden.”

  Dressler ignored me. “We have an algorithm running as we speak, but it’s going to take some time.”

  14

  I sent Major Sanchez and Octavia a message to let them know we were coming. Sanchez had tried to convince us not to bother, spouting some nonsense about how he was in control, but I insisted. At present, his team was the only one that hadn’t been able to gain entry to their target. I didn’t have time for ego-checking right now.

  We arrived to yet another door, this one roughly the same size as the hangar we used on the other side of the ship. Sanchez watched our approach with sharp, calculating eyes. I knew he was pissed at being ousted, but to my genuine surprise, nothing in his body language betrayed it.

  The sheer control was impressive, particularly for a Sarkonian. Everyone knew that they despised being slighted — an easy thing to do considering they had egos the size of the Deadlands. Come to think of it, Major Sanchez didn’t really strike me as a typical officer of the Empire. My gut warning system went off again, sensing something I couldn’t put into words just yet. And I didn’t have time to analyze Sanchez and his issues.

  The moment passed when we reached him and his men. I noted immediately that this group didn’t have any mingling pairs. The Sarkonians stood in a single file line on the side of the door where Sanchez and his tech waited. Octavia and Leif, the rest of my people, and the Union soldiers assigned to this team formed a slightly larger group on the opposite side. I saw bored expressions on more than a few from both sides.

  I let the major see my gaze wander slowly from one group to the other before falling on him again. He flicked a gaze to the segregated groups, expression contemplative. I gave him a moment to figure it out and saw the second it clicked. His eyes widened ever so slightly, and his lips flattened into a thin line as he realized his mistake. Sanchez nodded curtly, a silent acknowledgement of my observation.

  Dressler stepped forward impatiently and waved her data pad around. “Hello, Major Sanchez. May I assist with your permission?”

  “Yes, of course,” he replied, sweeping an arm toward his tech. “We would all be most grateful.”

  She hurried forward and began to converse with the man in rapid tech jargon, jabbing at her pad, then his. He leaned back a few centimeters as if blown back by her intensity. Dressler, being Dressler, didn’t notice. Even if she had, I doubted the woman would have cared a bit.

  After a few minutes of this, Dressler made a grunting sound. It was one I’d often heard when things didn’t go the way she wanted in the lab. I looked over, curious what the problem was. The tech, Bhoden, according to Abigail, had stepped back from the doc. She now stood close to the door and looked to be stabbing it. Concerned, I moved to intervene when the doc jerked back a few steps. I thought she’d managed to electrocute herself or something—gods knew the woman hardly bothered with safety equipment—but she had something in her hand. The wall behind her was missing a small section. Wires hung out of the opening, connected to the piece in the doc’s hand.

  Since I was closest, she grabbed me and pulled me to the wall.

  “Hey, lady, what do you think—” I started to protest, but she thrust the wall segment in my hand and picked up her data pad again.

  Of course, the mumbling and muttering to herself came next. As her fingers danced over the pad, I caught odd little snippets of half-finished sentences and streams of curses. I had to fight not to laugh aloud. When I’d first met Dressler, I’d known the woman had spine and a good deal of attitude. Still, for the most part, she stayed civil. Whatever was happening now, it was a new side.

  “Ah, I see what you tried to do. Clever, but not clever enough,” she said gleefully.

  Abigail shot me a worried glance, but I only shrugged.

  Dressler grinned, almost madly to my eyes. “Got you, you cheeky bastard!” she said triumphantly.

  “Doc, why don’t I take that from you?” I offered.

  Looking up from the pad, she finally noticed that everyone in the corridor was staring at her.

  I didn’t dare risk
a hand by reaching for the pad. The look in her eyes was too predatory and she quickly snatched her arm out of range. “No. I said I’d open the door,” she reminded me. “I’m ready.”

  Major Sanchez slanted me a look as if to ask, “Is she serious?” He must have decided not to risk setting off the doc because he brooked no argument and addressed his team. “Form up!”

  To his credit, everyone listened and hustled into position, bringing weapons to the ready. Abigail and I opted to stay on the side with Dressler, Sanchez, and the rest of the Union soldiers. Dressler took the wall piece back from me and replaced it. When the hall was quiet again, the major gave Dressler the go ahead.

  Dressler tapped on her pad again, gently this time, and stood out of the way as the massive doors parted under her command.

  Sanchez followed our standard protocol, doing an initial threat scan before sending forces inside. He went in first, my usual position. He gained a few scraps of respect from me for not sending in his troops to shield him from whatever was in there. I slipped in after with Abigail flanking me.

  Several impressions struck me when I rounded the opening. A sprawling space filled with enemy ships met my gaze, removing all doubt as to what this door had been hiding. Another hangar, nearly identical to ours, and much fuller.

  Brightly lit, unlike every other breach we’d performed on Tartarus. Something told me that Dressler hadn’t been responsible, but I wanted to verify for myself. “Doc, I got lights on in here. That you?”

  “No, Captain. I hadn’t gotten to them yet.” She sounded completely calm now, as though a few minutes ago, she hadn’t been cursing like a pirate at a data pad. “If they’re on now, they already were.”

  Exactly what I’d hoped she wouldn’t say. Active lights meant one thing. Someone besides us was in here or had been very recently. “Stay alert, people. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  “Captain Hughes, while I commend your assistance, I’d appreciate if you don’t give my team orders,” Sanchez said over the comm, finally showing some of that Sarkonian arrogance. I knew it was only a matter of time before he initiated a pissing contest between us.

  “Yeah, sure thing. Problem is, you’ve never been up against a Celestial. I have. I don’t give a damn about who’s in charge, so long as we all stay alive.”

  A pause filled the comm before Sanchez spoke again. “All teams proceed with extreme caution. Stay alert, as Captain Hughes has advised.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t fight me on it. Abigail came level with me, and we buddied up to help clear the hangar. Hundreds of ships stood ready for battle in a dizzying array of different shapes, only a few of which resembled those we’d encountered during our assault on this place.

  “Gods, how are we ever going to find anything in here?” Abigail murmured, scooting around landing gear taller than her.

  “I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

  I lost count of the different models. A few didn’t look operational at all with holes in their hulls as big as a person and burned out frames that left nothing but the bones.

  Taking it all in, I wondered if we were actually looking at a boneyard of older, decommissioned ships. A place for the Celestials to dump the trash, maybe for spare parts.

  Large as our group was, even after the better part of an hour, we only made it about halfway through. The ships made everything difficult because they afforded so much cover to anyone who might be hiding. Scans were useless with all the angled surfaces and metal around. I imagined Dressler and the other engineers would have a field day with this place in the coming weeks.

  “Captain Hughes, Major Sanchez,” called Leif over the comm. “You need to come see this. Sending our location now.”

  My pad blinked and showed a rough rendition of the hangar. Leif’s location popped up a second later on the far side of what looked to be an outer wall.

  Abigail and I made our way over, passing more Celestial spacecraft as we went, though the closer we got, the more sleek the ships became. We reached Octavia, Leif, and to my shock, Dressler, just as Major Sanchez arrived.

  “Dressler, why are you here?” I asked. “Thought you had a program to get back to?”

  “I looked inside and saw all this.” She waved her arms at the room. “When Leif put the call out for you to come look at something, I concluded it was safe.”

  “No one gave the all clear. We can’t protect you if we don’t even know you’re around.”

  “Mr. Wisand, you were saying?” Sanchez said.

  For a moment, I didn’t know who he was talking to. Wisand?

  “Yes,” Leif replied, jogging my memory. I’d forgotten Leif even had a last name because no one ever used it. He slid a questioning glance my way. I returned a subtle nod to give him the go ahead. “These ships here, closest to the bay doors, have been in a recent battle.”

  The Eternal indicated a handful of ships, each scorched in places and bearing the scars of enemy fire. The hatches lay open, as though recently used. If that weren’t enough, the heavy scent of seared metal hung in the air, far too fresh. These were from our last attack, I wagered. With the lights on, I hazarded a guess that the Celestials had retreated to this place during the attack and made off to some other location. The real question was, where were they now?

  “Run another scan,” Major Sanchez barked over the comm, apparently coming to a similar conclusion.

  The different groups began to check in, one by one.

  “Team 1, negative.”

  “Team 2, negative.”

  “Team 3, negative.”

  “Team 4, neg—"

  A violent scream interrupted the last call. I heard him both on the comm channel and in the hangar, and his voice echoed off the ceiling and filled the open space, making it almost impossible to discern where it came from. Immediately, shots rang out and mingled with the unmistakable roar of a Berserker class Celestial.

  “This is Major Sanchez to all forces aboard Tartarus. We are under attack. Three Celestials. Send assistance now!”

  “There’s more than one,” muttered Abigail, beside me.

  “Three hostiles in the hangar! I repeat, three hostiles in the hangar!” someone informed over the comm.

  “Godsdammit,” I snapped. Things just couldn’t be easy. “Octavia, Leif, Abby —you’re with me. We have to get Dressler away from the Celestials.”

  “Where?” asked Octavia, looking at her data pad. “All three of them are between us and the door. We won’t make it.”

  Dressler studied the pad and drew a path. “If we go this way and use the ships as cover, we can make it.”

  I took it from her, glanced at the route, then handed it back and shook my head. “Not a chance, Doc. I know it looks like there’s enough space, but we could get trapped between the enemy at two different spots between here and the exit.”

  Abigail held up a hand to halt further discussion. “We’re running out of time. Look, there’s an empty section on the other side of the bay door can’t say for sure because the scanners never got close enough, but I think there’s a room.”

  “Are you confident enough to bet our lives on it?” I asked incredulously. “If there’s no room, then we’ll have backed ourselves into a corner.”

  “One of the Celestials is down!” a voice yelled through the comm.

  That left two to deal with. Still too many.

  I tapped my comm, breathing hard from hauling ass. “Siggy, we’ve located some of those missing Celestials. Requesting backup!”

  “Apologies, sir. I’ve just received the major’s distress call. Help is on the way.”

  I didn’t respond, wanting to save my breath. We caught up to Dressler a few meters later, stopping behind one of the ships.

  Her eyes were wide, and she peered around the side of the shot up vessel. The chaos of battle still raged in other parts of the hangar, but it was quiet here for now. “You okay, Dressler?” I asked.

  Dressler didn’t answer
right away, holding up a finger for me to wait a minute. She tore her gaze from the ships and laughed nervously. “I thought I heard something, but it was just an echo from wherever that fight is happening.”

  Abigail pointed to the wall, only a dozen or so meters to our left, where a door marked the entrance to possible safety. “That’s our target. Octavia and Leif will go with you. Jace and I will provide cover.” She shot me a look for confirmation, and I nodded.

  Out of everyone I knew, I trusted Abigail to have my back. I’d run screaming into the void itself with her beside me. And she damn well knew it.

  “Ready, Doctor?” asked Octavia.

  Dressler nodded and sucked in a steadying breath. When she let it out, a blast shook the very floor beneath us and a wailing cry exploded from the ship beside us.

  I landed several meters away, head and ears ringing. The hangar tilted violently when I tried to get to my feet and my vision blurred around the edges. Under my knees, the floor shook — or was that me? I couldn’t tell.

  A scream reached my ears, but it sounded far away at first. It grew louder by the second, cutting through the terrible ringing until a cacophony of noise rushed in to assault my senses. The scream gave way from noise to words, but my brain struggled to make sense of them. Jay? Was that over my comm? I reached up to check and found the earpiece missing.

  “Jace! Get up!” the voice screamed.

  “Abby?” I blinked to clear the fog from my vision.

  The ground rumbled again, and I looked up in time to see one of the mobile armor suits standing over me, a hard light blade clenched in its metal fist.

  A maelstrom of bullets peppered its legs, chipping off bits of the shiny metal but otherwise to little effect. I observed it all without moving, even though by now my brain had started to catch up. “Oh, shit!” I bellowed, willing my limbs to listen and get a move on while the Celestial was distracted.

  Adrenaline kicked in, and I surged up, grabbing the rifle still clipped to my armor and searching the immediate area. I slapped my personal shield, but nothing happened. Like my comm, it had probably been destroyed. Great. A larger ship was only a few meters away and I dived under its belly, hoping to get a covered vantage point. It was low ground, but better than nothing.