Dark Space- The Complete Series

by Jasper T. Scott

  “Go get suited up while I finish dealing with this mess. If anyone has to take the heat for it, it’s going to be you. Are we clear?”

  “You can blame me all the way to the netherworld, Gina.”

  “Good, I will.”

  They heard more muffled banging from somewhere deep inside the ship, and Alara turned to look. “Maybe I should go back there and try to calm them down. . . .”

  “Forget it. You’ll just rile them up more. Get me a spare flight suit from storage and then get back up here and help me pilot this bucket.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Alara said. As she walked down the dark, narrow corridor leading away from the cockpit, she thought, At least now you won’t be alone out there, Ethan.

  Chapter 14

  “The frek! Who is this?” Sergeant Dorian demanded.

  Ethan stood in the back of the transport, shaking his head incredulously as he listened to Alara’s hasty explanations over the intercom. What are you doing here, Alara? He hadn’t realized that she was joining the mission, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to be piloting this particular transport. He hoped she wasn’t commandeering it in order to keep him away from Brondi; that would get them both into even more trouble, but it would be just like her to go charging into the middle of things without a second’s hesitation. Her emotions had always ruled her decisions. If he didn’t know better, he’d have said she was her old self again.

  Another female speaker came on the intercom, and Ethan thought he recognized that one, too, but at the moment he couldn’t remember from where. “It’s all right, Sergeant, had some confusion on this end with my greeny copilot, but we’re good to go now.”

  Ethan placed the voice a second later—Gina Giord. He’d flown with her a few times during the battle to escape Dark Space. He smiled, reassured. Whatever was going on, it was nothing to worry about if she was involved. Ethan watched Aleph Squad milling about, banging on hatches, cussing, and yelling to be let out.

  “Relax!” Ethan said. “You’re in capable hands. I know these pilots.”

  “Yea?” Sergeant Dorian turned to him. Ethan couldn’t make out the man’s expression through his faceplate, but he imagined a smirk. “Do I care if you know them, Private Ortane?”

  “Probably not, but you’re giving me a headache, so I thought it was worth mentioning.”

  Dorian laughed. “For all your smug krak, I’m going to enjoy watching your armor peeled open with plasma. You’re not a vanguard because you earned it, laser bait. You’re a vanguard because the admiral made you one, and he said he doesn’t want you to come back from this mission, so I can personally guarantee that you won’t.”

  Ethan held his peace. There was no point riling the sergeant further. The intercom crackled again a few minutes later, and Gina said, “We’re launching in 30 seconds. Buckle up, ladies.”

  A few sniggered at that while others took umbrage and made their displeasure known. Gina replied to their protestations: “Calling you brutes ladies was a compliment, but a real lady would have known that, so I guess it was undeserved.”

  Ethan smiled behind his faceplate. Gina Giord was a fine example of a female officer who lived by the chauvinistic motto, anything a man can do, I can do better. After seeing the way she flew a nova, and watching her still run and fight after breaking half her ribs during their escape from the Valiant, he couldn’t really argue the point.

  The next voice which came over the intercom was Alara’s. “Ethan?” she said.

  He frowned, wondering why she would single him out. That wasn’t going to make him any more popular with his squad.

  “Yes, Alara?” he called back, ignoring the few helmets which turned his way, their expressions inscrutable behind their dark, reflective blue faceplates.

  “Immortals be with you,” she said.

  “Likewise, Kiddie.”

  A moment later, the man standing in the docking station beside Ethan’s said, “Sounds like you have a guardian angel in the cockpit.”

  Angel, Ethan thought grimly. That man didn’t know how right he was. He turned to address the man and noted the holographic insignia glowing on his matte black shoulder plate—two glittering bronze chevrons overlaid on a black shield. Those chevrons marked him as a corporal in the sentinels and the glowing red cross above them indicated he was the squad medic. Scrawled across the bottom of his insignia was his squad designation, Aleph Seven. Ethan inclined his head to acknowledge the man, and then looked away as the ship began to rumble and vibrate around them. Amidst the rising whine of the transport’s engines, came a soft ca-clunk, and then stars appeared on the other side of the pinhole viewports which lined the opposite side of the transport between mech docking stations.

  Ethan smiled anew. I’m coming for you, Brondi.

  * * *

  Brondi was back on the bridge of the Valiant, staring alternately between the dark surface of Ritan and an ever-narrowing slice of star-studded space. They were in a deteriorating orbit, slowly drifting toward the planet, and power still hadn’t been restored to his ship! At this rate they’d crash before that happened. Brondi had returned from the reactor room over an hour ago. When he’d left, his engineers had assured him that the reactor would be back online and power would be restored soon. As for the inertial management system, apparently it had been hit with a whole crate of proximity mines, but while Brondi had been trapped in the reactor room, some of his engineers had made themselves useful by reconfiguring the carrier’s SLS interrupter field as a backup IMS. Now they’d rededicated their efforts to the damaged reactor, and the greasers assured him that both power and gravity would be restored soon . . . whenever that was.

  That was the good news—they probably wouldn’t crash into Ritan and all die in a fiery explosion. The bad news was that Captain Thornton was in a coma in the med bay with no sign of when, if ever, he was going to wake up, and until he did, Brondi would have to find another stand-in to wear the overlord’s holoskin.

  The whole situation was a mess, and to make matters worse, they’d found no sign of the Sythian stowaway or stowaways who’d caused it all. One of the mech squads had reported a missing escape pod near the reactor room, however, so Brondi was hoping that meant the kakard had ejected himself into space. Brondi’s eyes narrowed on a particularly bright cluster of stars. He watched them twinkle and dance.

  “Sir, teams four and six report they’re almost ready to restore power. . . . and . . . one of our watch stations just reported in. They’ve found a rescue team from the Admiral’s fleet. They’re dead sir.”

  “What?” Brondi whirled from the viewports to see his comm officer gazing up at him. “Why am I only hearing about this after my men have killed them?” Brondi demanded.

  “They didn’t. It would appear the rescue team ran into a mine trap laid by our saboteur.”

  “Frek,” Brondi muttered “We’d better comm the admiral to explain.” The comm officer stared dumbly at him. “Well? What are you waiting for? Call them!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Audio only. If they want video, tell them we’re having technical difficulties due to the sabotage. And if they want to talk to the overlord, tell them he’s in the med bay being treated for some minor injuries.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Brondi scowled. “What a frekking mess!”

  “The main reactor is online!” the chief engineer reported, and with that the dim red emergency lighting was replaced with a comparatively blinding brightness. A cheer went up from the crew. “IMS is coming back online!” the engineer reported next. “Dialing up in ten.”

  The comm officer began an audible countdown over the ship’s intercom and Brondi got ready to turn off his grav gun. The countdown reached zero, and he snapped off the gun’s field emitter. When his feet didn’t float free of the deck, he nodded and said, “Good work.” Now things could get back to normal. “Engineering, run a full systems check. We’d better make sure nothing else was sabotaged. Comms, contact the admiral bef
ore they wonder too much about their missing men.”

  “Yes, sir,” they chorused.

  “Gravidar, report—what have we missed out there?” Brondi turned back to the viewports to watch the stars twinkle and dance while he waited for his gravidar officer to reply.

  “Ah . . . sir, I’m reading two dozen assault transports and a squadron of novas headed our way. They’re almost on us, sir.”

  Brondi blinked, and suddenly he realized the stars he was looking at weren’t stars at all. Those bright points of light were the engine glows of approaching ships.

  Why would they send out assault transports? Turning away from the viewports once more, he said, “Comms! Have you reached the admiral yet?”

  “No, sir. They’re not responding to our hails.”

  “Then make contact with the approaching ships! Ask them to state their intentions.” Brondi stalked up to the captain’s table to see the situation for himself.

  “Yes, sir. . . .” the comm officer replied.

  When Brondi reached the captain’s table, he took one look at the enemy formation and shook his head. The admiral’s forces were spread out into six groups—one for each of the Valiant’s hangar bays. Coming to a decision, he looked up from the holo table and turned to the nav station. “Helm, start spooling the SLS. Set course for Dark Space.”

  “We’re leaving, sir?”

  “Yes, we’re leaving! With all possible speed.”

  “The transports are not responding to our hails either. . . .”

  “Forget that! Sound a red alert—engineering, power our shields to maximum, but leave weapons alone for now. I don’t want them to start treating us as a hostile target just yet.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Weapons! Tell our gunners to use ripper cannons only. Have them mark their targets, and wait until they’re close. We fire on my mark.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Brondi scowled behind his helmet. Thought you could surprise me, did you, Admiral? We’ll see who surprises who.

  * * *

  Ten minutes earlier . . .

  “So,” Gina began as she programmed a course to the far side of Ritan, where the Valiant was slowly drifting out of orbit. “Are you going to tell me why I just had to beat half a dozen angry flight controllers off the comm so that we could fly this particular transport? I’m guessing it has something to do with that scruffy-looking outlaw they caught impersonating the overlord.”

  Alara nodded.

  “You were his copilot?”

  “Before I was chipped, yes.”

  “Right, so how can you still remember that? Shouldn’t the slave chip have suppressed all your memories?”

  “Yes, no—I don’t know. He keeps breaking into my thoughts at odd times. It seems like every day I remember something new about him.”

  “So what do you think you remember?”

  “That I love him.”

  Alara saw one of Gina’s blonde eyebrows arch behind the faceplate of her flight suit. “Are you sure about that?”

  “As sure as I am about anything.”

  “Okay, then tell me why you love him.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s gotta be a reason, Kiddie, or it’s not love.”

  “I . . . he’s . . . I feel like something is pulling me toward him whenever I see him. The air starts to buzz as if with an electrical charge. My heart starts pounding, and—”

  “I’m going to stop you there. What you’re describing is lust, pure and simple.”

  “No.” Alara shook her head. “I feel lust all the time, for almost any man. It’s programmed into me—part of being a good playgirl, I think—but this is different. There’s physical attraction, but there’s also so much more . . . he makes me want to smile and laugh and cry all at the same time.”

  “Hmmm. There has to be a reason you love him—besides how he makes you feel. What has he ever done for you?”

  “He’s going to risk his life to board the Valiant so he can find Brondi and help me get my memory back.”

  “That’s something he’s about to do, not something he’s done, and you only have his word for that. He might have other, more personal reasons to get his hands on Brondi. I know I do.”

  Alara sighed. “Well, I don’t know, Gina. I can barely remember him, let alone everything he’s done for me. All I have left are my feelings.”

  “All right, don’t get all emotional on me. Just take a page out of my logbook, Kiddie—if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that when a man makes you his number two, because some other woman is already his number one, you’re just there to keep the pillows warm for her.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Alara said.

  Gina turned to her again. “Do you know that for sure?”

  Alara grimaced. “No.”

  “Then until you do, don’t waste your time worrying about him.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  “What?”

  “You said if there’s one thing you’ve learned . . .”

  “Don’t read too much into that.”

  “That’s what Adan Reese did to you, isn’t it. He had someone else and you were his—”

  “His what?” Gina snapped. “His little bit on the side? Yea that was me, and I’d sooner kiss a skull face than another slimy toad like him.”

  “What happened?” Alara asked.

  “He was dating some rich farmer’s daughter. They got engaged. That was when I broke my knuckles on his face and left the kakard.”

  “Krak, I’m sorry, Gina.”

  “Then he comes back from a patrol in Dark Space, looking and sounding all reformed, and he has the nerve to sit there at the bar, sipping a drink I bought for him, with a wedding ring on his finger. A wedding ring!” Gina snorted and shook her head. “He said it was for luck. Yeah, right.”

  Alara frowned. “I remember Ethan used to wear his. He made no secret of the fact that he was married . . . at least not that I can remember.”

  “I guess your man’s more brazen, or maybe you’re just a bigger skriff. I dated a man who was engaged, and you dated one who was already married.” Gina snorted. “Do you think either still counts as dating?” she mused with a whimsical lilt in her voice.

  Alara frowned. “Who are you calling a skriff?”

  “Hoi, we were both skriffs.”

  Alara sighed. “So Adan was wearing a wedding band, too?”

  “Back then, right before we lost the Valiant. Seems like a lifetime ago now. The krakhead wouldn’t even admit to being married, and I haven’t seen him wearing it since. I guess he took it off after we left Dark Space—maybe he figured it didn’t work for his playboy lifestyle to advertise that he was unavailable.”

  “I remember Ethan’s was just a simple silver band. I don’t think it could have cost much, but one time, when he thought he’d lost it . . .” Alara shook her head and gave a small, bitter smile. “He turned the whole ship upside down until he found it again. He treated that ring like it was his prized possession.”

  “You see? There you go. A man like that isn’t going to forget about his wife for you. The only reason he says he can now is because he realizes that his wife moved on and he’s about to die. Maybe he wants to feel like someone still loves him before he goes into the light. That still makes you sloppy seconds, girlie, so don’t you believe his krak.”

  Alara felt those words hit her like a slap in the face. Gina was right. The cockpit fell into silence, and Alara lost herself in the stars as she thought about everything Gina had said. A horrible, hollow ache began in her chest and spread through her veins until she felt numb and leaden with sorrow. Without Ethan she didn’t have anyone. The only other person she felt any kind of connection to was Brondi, and she couldn’t trust those memories. If she couldn’t trust Ethan either . . . where did that leave her?

  “There she is,” Gina said.

  Alara blinked and suddenly the starry backdrop of space came into better focus. In the
distance she saw a large, gunmetal gray ship bracketed against the stars. The ship looked like it was glowing, but Alara realized that Gina had snapped on a light amplification overlay to make the Valiant visible despite the near perfect darkness around Ritan.

  “We’re a few minutes to target,” Gina said. “Thanks to you, we’ll be the first ones there.”

  Alara smiled. “You know, piloting a transport for the vanguards is going to look a lot better on your record, anyway.”

  Gina snorted. “Yea, except it’s gonna say commandeered not piloted, and it’ll be on a criminal record.”

  Alara laughed and watched the Valiant growing steadily nearer and larger in the forward viewport. When they’d closed to within just two klicks of the massive carrier, and their speed was down to 542 m/s, Alara saw the super carrier’s icon abruptly brighten on the grid, and she frowned. “You see that?” She looked up to see Gina’s hands flying over the controls. “I see it.”

  Abruptly the carrier’s hundred and fifty plus decks lit up, and the ship began shining like a whole galaxy of stars. A second later the comms crackled with, “Approaching vessels, this is the Valiant, please state your intentions.”

  “Looks like Brondi’s planning to make a run for it,” Gina said. “You’d better hold on tight. This is gonna be close.”

  The Valiant now filled their view of space. Gina used the rudder to slew their transport’s nose into line over the carrier’s ventral hangar bay, while Alara studied the blue fuzz of static shields at the opening, trying to determine if there were any heavier shields already powering over top of that thin blue membrane.

  “Transports One and Two, this is mission command, it looks like they’re on to you. See if you can get the vanguards on board before their shields are fully powered.”

  “Roger that, command,” Gina said, and pushed the throttle forward.

  Alara’s eyes goggled. “You’re accelerating?”

  “Either that or we make their shields fizz as we’re turned into liquid plasma. What do you prefer?”

  “You’ll crash on the deck.”

  Gina shrugged. “Maybe.”