by Rachel Aukes
A bullet-shaped cruiser zoomed toward them, scattering prisoners out of its path. The hovercraft slid to a stop, and a door opened to reveal a frowning Seda. “Get in. We’ve got a problem.”
As everyone piled into the craft, Reyne asked, “What’s the problem?”
“Mason has made his first move,” Seda answered. “There’s a squadron of CUF gunships entering Terra’s orbit right now, and every single one of them are on a direct path to the Citadel.”
Fourteen
Ghost Ships
“The gunships will slaughter everyone,” Reyne said. “Without heavy ground-to-air artillery, we don’t stand a chance against them from the ground.”
“We need to get to our ships,” Critch said. “We can draw their attention away from the people.”
“There’s no time,” Seda said, jackknifing the cruiser upward and speeding away in the night sky. “It would take you an hour to get to your ships. I can get to mine in three minutes.”
Reyne looked to the sky, still not seeing the incoming ships. He turned around to check on Boden and Sixx to find each sitting silently in the seats next to Critch’s crew. It was the first time in days that Sixx didn’t look like his mind was somewhere else. It only took the threat of a gunship squadron to bring him back, Reyne thought humorlessly. In the hovercraft, everyone’s eyes were wide and bodies tense, which was exactly how Reyne suspected he looked. After all, there was only one thing you did if a squadron of gunships was headed your way. Run.
Seconds felt like minutes as Seda’s cruiser shot through the sky, breaking the sound barrier with popping sounds.
“You have a gunship?” Critch asked.
“No.”
“Then it’s no match against the CUF.”
The cruiser slowed and descended sharply as they approached a tall hill illuminated by the planet’s two moons. Reyne stiffened as they closed the distance to the hill. He didn’t breathe until the cruiser skimmed over the ground and then flew in parallel to the incline.
“You’re close enough I could reach out and pick a few flowers,” Critch said drily.
Reyne’s muscles cramped from tension. “You’re going too fast.”
Seda made no adjustment.
He grabbed the seat as the ground grew closer and closer. “Seda.”
“Trust me.”
“Still working on that,” Reyne said.
“Seda,” Critch joined in.
Someone in the backseat yelled just as the cruiser met the ground.
The cruiser then flew through the ground, to be more accurate.
“A hologram.” Reyne deflated. “You could’ve told us.”
Seda smiled.
Below the hologram, a long runway stood. A single hangar that could easily hold the entire fleet of specters stood at one end. What drew Reyne’s attention and sounds of awe throughout the cruiser was the spacecraft powered up nearby that dwarfed the hangar.
“You have a warship,” Critch said incredulously.
Reyne’s eyes narrowed as he took in the ship. It was less than half the size of modern warships, but that didn’t make it any less threatening. He remembered when the torrents had a fleet of them gliding through space. With smooth lines and an oval hull, she was beautiful. When he made out the name on the side, he smiled. “Not just any warship. It’s the Raptor.”
“Impossible,” Critch said. “She was destroyed during the Uprising.”
Seda shook his head. “It was only damaged. It didn’t burn up in the atmosphere as was rumored.”
“I think I’m in love,” Boden murmured from the backseat.
“Get ready to move,” Seda said. “We need to switch ships without any delay.”
Seda brought the cruiser down hard and fast, but slipped it into a softer landing than Reyne had expected. He’d been so nervous during the flight that he’d failed to notice that Seda was an impressive pilot. “How many times have you flown the Coastal Run?” he asked Seda as they left the hovercraft and jogged over to the warship.
“None, officially. A stationmaster would never do something so reckless.” Seda grabbed a ladder and started climbing up into the docked ship. Over his shoulder, he added, “Unofficially, seven times.”
As they rushed on board, Birk frowned. “It’s an antique.”
“It’s a classic,” Critch corrected him as he hurried past him.
As soon as Seda entered the bridge, he called out. “Hari, report.”
The woman standing on board turned. “Ready for immediate departure, sir. I’ve taken the liberty of cycling all gun systems. The Raptor is ready.”
He buckled in at the captain’s helm. “Then let’s not sit around here any longer. If this doesn’t draw the CUF’s attention, nothing will.” He glanced back at Reyne and Critch. “Hari and I have the flight controls. I need your teams to handle the weapon systems. Everything’s manual on this old girl.”
“I remember,” Reyne said before facing Critch. “My team will take forward cannons. You take aft.”
“Wilco,” Critch replied and turned to his crew, “Team South, you’re with me.”
As they ran off, Reyne said, “Team North, come with me.” The three men followed him off the bridge and up a level. He grabbed the railing when the ship lunged forward, and he suspected Seda was using full propulsion to build speed faster.
He pointed to the various gunners’ chairs. “Sixx, I want you front and center on the big cannon.”
“Hoowee,” Sixx hollered with glee as he ran to claim his seat.
“Boden, you take this corner cannon.”
“Got it, boss.”
He turned to Maddox. “Do you know how to operate phase cannons?”
Maddox lifted his brows as though it was a stupid question.
“Of course you do. How about you take the corner cannon opposite Boden.”
Reyne took a step back to make sure his team was buckled in and comfortable with the controls. Assured they all were ready, he sat down in an open gunner’s chair and strapped in. Hari had been true to her word, and the systems were already up at one hundred percent. He pulled up the gun’s scanner to find several blips moving toward a central location.
“Check your scanners. We’ve got bogeys screaming in,” Reyne called out, and then added, “Remember, cannons are slower than photon guns, so fire only when you have a solid target. That goes double for you, Sixx.”
“Yeah, yeah, boss. Got it,” Sixx hollered back.
The large warship accelerated more slowly than the cruiser had, but it continued to gain momentum and closed the distance back to the Citadel nearly as quickly as the arriving gunships. However, the gunships would be in firing range of the people on the ground before the Raptor could stop them.
Reyne hollered, “Sixx, fire off a shot at the nearest gunship.”
“They’re not in range yet.”
“I know. Just do it. Let’s see if we can’t draw their attention away from the crowds.”
Reyne watched the scanner as more gunships broke through the atmosphere and sped toward the Citadel. His muscles remained taut as he waited for the first shot. If the Raptor wasn’t enough to draw all the gunships to them, the Citadel would be the site of a massacre.
A minor shockwave rumbled through the Raptor, and Reyne saw the system report a shot had been fired. He watched his scanner. No gunships disappeared, not that he’d expect them to get that lucky this far out. However, the ship nearest to them took evasive maneuvers.
“I piqued the curiosity of one of the buggers,” Sixx said. “He’s changed course and is coming straight at us.”
“We have one incoming gunship. We’re raising defensive shields,” Hari said on the intercom.
Interminable seconds passed, and the remaining ships continued on their path to the Citadel. “Change course, damn it,” Reyne muttered to himself, but the gunships ignored his plea.
“I’m reporting shots fired on the Citadel,” Hari’s voice came through the speaker system.
“It can, but we’d overshoot the Citadel. By the way, your mike is pressed,” Hari said.
Reyne glanced down and noticed he was clenching the joystick so tightly he’d had his intercom depressed. He shook his hands, trying to release the tension.
“Bogey at our twelve. Coming in hot. Guess they didn’t like my handshake,” Sixx announced.
He felt another cannon blast reverberate through the ship. The gunship’s icon on the scanner swerved but still didn’t disappear, and soon tracked back onto its direct course at the warship, though it began to weave to make itself a harder target.
“You missed,” Maddox said.
“I know,” Sixx replied. “These old cannons are slower than I expected. I’ll get him this time.”
Reyne understood Sixx’s frustration. Even though Sixx was an expert marksman, cannons weren’t like photon guns. They had a limited rotation arc and took longer to adjust than smaller guns. Where it would take a dozen or more photon shots to take out a ship, a single phase cannon blast would blast through shields and knock a ship out of the sky.
After Sixx’s second fire, the scanner showed nine other gunships adjust course to come at the Raptor, leaving four still on course for the Citadel, and how many more still descending from orbit.
“Looks like we’re getting their attention now,” Reyne said to himself. Even though every gunner had his own scanner, he tapped his intercom. “Prepare for incoming. The party’s getting started.”
The first gunship came in fast at the Raptor, and Sixx fired at it. The bogey banked at the last second. Multiple blasts came from the warship, and the gunship disappeared off the scanner.
“Got ’em for you, Sixx,” Maddox called out.
The incoming gunships were coming in even faster, and the screen indicated they’d be at the warship in twenty seconds.
“Hold on for evasive maneuvers,” Seda announced an instant before the ship banked to the left. The movement was slow, with little noticeable G-force, like a whale rolling in the ocean.
Reyne’s screen flashed a warning, and he saw multiple incoming shots fired from the ships.
The Raptor felt every hit and returned fire. Another icon disappeared off the screen. The remaining ships broke off in a starburst pattern, speeding over and around the warship.
Reyne’s cannon was located on the side of the ship, meaning he had the least amount of rotation. He fired and missed.
An explosion off to his right made him duck. He looked to find smoke pouring through a hole midway down the ship. “Hull breach! Don’t let these bastards get a bead on us!”
Neither warships nor gunships were designed for in-gravity combat. They were graceful in zero-g, but atmosphere made maneuvers sluggish and acceleration slow. The gunships were faster and far more agile, but the Raptor had more cannons. Unfortunately, the gunships also had newer technology with automated targeting systems, while the torrents had to take more time to manually aim and shoot.
The Raptor was taking a beating, but she was giving as good as she got. Nonstop cannon fire blasted out from its eight gunners, keeping the gunships scurrying to evade. As one gunship was destroyed, more incoming appeared on screen.
Reyne focused on firing at every bogey that came within his range, while throwing quick glimpses to see that no gunships remained in the vicinity of the Citadel. The Raptor had done her job. “Praise the eversea,” he said softly, and fired again.
When he noticed a limping gunship turn onto a suicidal course with the Raptor, he lined up his cannon and fired. The ship exploded, blinding him momentarily. His eyesight returned for him to see his system flashing a “Malfunction” warning. He’d lost all control of his cannon. With a grimace, he unbuckled and sprang from his seat to find another gun.
The Raptor tilted, throwing Reyne against a wall. He grunted and shoved off, trying to run at the steep angle. The nearest gunner’s chair was a photon gun not far from the hull breach. He strapped in to find the system screen broken, but the gun felt operational in his grip.
He swung the gun around and laid down strafing fire at a pair of gunships that were making a wide bank for the stern. Several shots connected and bumped the ships off their course, but their shields held. The sliver of time it took for them to line back up their course cost them when a cannon blast shot out from the back of the ship and blew up one of the gunships. The exploding ship slammed into its wingman, sending the other ship careening out of control and crashing into the ground below in an explosion of its own.
Another blast rocked the warship.
“We’ve lost directional gyros, and our engines are overheating,” Seda announced. “Prepare for a hard landing.”
Reyne scanned the sky but saw nothing. He looked down at his broken screen and frowned. “How many bogeys do we have left?” he shouted to no one in particular.
“Three,” came Critch’s reply. “Lining up for a strafing run at our bow.”
Reyne held on as the ship nosed down and descended. The sounds of photon blasts erupted through the ship, starting at the front and working their way back. The Raptor lurched and rolled to the side, giving Reyne a view of the night sky. Cannon fire responded.
Without any visual cue, he had no time to prepare for impact. All forward momentum stopped in an instant. His head slammed into the seat. Searing pain blossomed in his left hand.
When he regained his bearings, Reyne noticed the back of his hand was already swelling and bruising from smacking against the metal hull at the time of impact. He gingerly made a fist to make sure nothing was broken.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement. Pain was forgotten as he grabbed the joystick, lined up the gun, and held down the trigger. The shots hit the gunship’s nose. Its shields must’ve been compromised, because he watched his shots go right through the ship’s view panel and take out the pilot. The dead ship flew straight at Reyne. His eyes widened, knowing there was no way to unbuckle in time.
By some miracle the dead pilot must’ve fallen forward, because the ship suddenly took an abrupt nose dive, crashing into the ground just before it would’ve struck the warship.
Reyne’s jaw loosened as he leaned forward to peer out at the close call.
“The last two are bugging out,” Critch yelled. “It looks like they’ve had enough for now.”
They’ll be back soon, with reinforcements. Reyne grimaced as he unbuckled and pushed himself from his seat. The ship was lying at an angle so that he could see some of the horizon and much of the night sky. He walked carefully down the angled hallway toward the front of the ship, using the railing for support. He met Boden in the hallway. “Are you injured?”
“I’m good,” Boden replied.
The pair migrated to Sixx’s gunner’s chair to find it empty. “Sixx?” Reyne called out.
“With Maddox,” he replied. “We could use a bit of help here.”
Reyne and Boden hustled to find Sixx examining a metal beam that had fallen across Maddox’s seat. Reyne put a hand on Maddox’s shoulder to find him conscious.
“His leg’s being pinched by the beam. It’s probably broken, but I’m not seeing any blood,” Sixx offered. “Once we cut through it, we should be good.”
Maddox’s eyes grew wide. “You’re not cutting off my leg.”
Sixx grinned. “I was talking about cutting through the beam, but now that you mention it, cutting through your leg would be a whole lot easier.”
Reyne turned to Boden. “The mechanicals room is directly below the engine room in the aft of the ship. Think you can find a saw?”
Boden nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
“Move fast, because I don’t know how long we have before more of our CUF friends show up.”
Boden nodded again and took off at an awkward run down the uneven hallway.
Reyne looked from Maddox to Sixx. “You
got this? I need to check on the others.”
Maddox held up his thumb, and Sixx answered. “We’re good.”
Reyne headed down the hallway, but only took a few steps before he saw Critch and his team heading his way. Alex was nursing his arm, and Birk had his shirt tight around his head, a line of blood down his cheek. Critch and Nat looked otherwise unharmed.
“What’s your team’s status?” Critch asked.
“Maddox is pinned with a leg injury, but not in critical condition. Boden and Sixx are working at freeing him now. Otherwise, we’re good. You?”
“We’re good,” Critch answered and then tapped Nat. “Go, help out with Maddox.”
Reyne pointed. “They’re right down there.”
Nat hustled down the hallway.
Reyne glanced to the steps. “I haven’t heard from the bridge yet.”
Critch’s lips thinned, and he followed Reyne down the stairs.
Reyne paused in his steps when he reached the bridge. It looked like the entire battle had taken place there. Black char indicated how many direct photon hits the bridge had taken. The view panel was fractured, with several holes through it. The stench of burning electrical and smoke filled Reyne’s nostrils. In the center of the bridge, Hari was kneeling in front of Seda, who still sat in the captain’s chair. A first aid kit lay at her feet, with the contents strewn about. Several empty syringes lay nearby.
Reyne hustled inside, and he heard the others rush in behind him. Hari looked up. Her hair was burnt and her shoulder was clearly dislocated, but she continued using her good arm as she tied white gauze around Seda’s right arm…or what was left of it. His arm dangled by a few sinews. Blood pooled on the floor, but it looked like some of his arm had been charred enough to staunch the bleeding so that he was still conscious. A black streak showed the path a photon blast had burned across the floor and right up to the captain’s chair, cutting through the arm of the chair and abruptly stopping.
“Lucky bastard,” Critch said.
“He’s nearly ready to be moved,” she said, motioning them in. “Our pickup should be arriving any minute. We need to move quickly.”
