The Alorian Wars Box Set

by Drew Avera

  “This is Captain Paro of the Replicade requesting permission to land on Farax, Sector 112. Statement of purpose is for resupply and to contract repairs for my ship,” she said, wondering if it sounded to the controller on Farax as scripted as she knew it was. She looked into the monitor, into the dim-lit face of the Faraxian controller who looked neither Greshian nor any other race she had encountered.

  “Replicade, be aware of inclement weather patterns in Sector 112. Recommend using any available automatic landing sequences your ship is equipped with. Farax welcomes you.” The monitor went dark, but there was still the hum of static that wasn’t there before the connection was made. They were monitoring the Replicade’s comms.

  To Anki, the controller seemed polite, but having never landed on another world before, she had no real idea of how else a controller would sound. She was careful to switch off the comm before speaking to Brendle. “Was that all right?” she looked back at the blank communications monitor, hoping above all that the controller was not able to keep the connection alive despite her effort to close it.

  Brendle stayed in his corner of the bridge. She knew he was hoping to avoid detection from the bridge scanners often used by controllers to determine if a ship was landing under duress. All they needed was to be discovered smuggling a Greshian onto Farax and they would lose permission to land, or perhaps be welcomed by a mob of those who would bring him harm. “If you’re asking if they bought it, I think it’s a fair assumption they did. We’ll know for sure when we touch down,” he replied.

  What he didn’t say was that the potential for a boarding party to be sent after them was close to forty-seven percent. He didn’t have to say it, though. Deis had mentioned it the night before, and his warning still echoed in Anki’s mind.

  “I guess so,” she said nervously. She engaged the autopilot for landing sequence as she felt the rumble of the Replicade entering the Faraxian upper atmosphere. The air was thin, but extremely flammable in the dense upper atmosphere. The gases didn’t mix well on Farax, so the difference between the upper and lower atmospheres was similar to how water and oil refused to mix, the heavier gases supporting life the closer it was to the ground, the poisonous gases choking any life that dared to venture too high. The flashpoint was severe at their current altitude, based on the lapping flames engulfing their ship on the Replicade’s monitors. Anki was nervous about how well her patch welding would hold under the extensive heat beating against the hull of the Replicade. She was confident her work would hold vacuum at bay, but heated metal usually warped over time, and losing life support at this altitude might mean a loss of life, considering the noxious gases of the upper atmosphere of Farax. Why did we have to pick this world?

  Brendle rose from his seat and looked at the monitor closest to her, the one depicting what kind of conditions they were entering. She angled it towards him to give him a better view. “It looks like the storm below has gusts exceeding sixty knots. Even with the autopilot engaged, the landing will be rough. I’ll let Deis and Malikea know to strap in,” he told her as he turned to leave the bridge.

  Her heart sank.

  “Can’t you just use the ship’s comm?” Anki was nervous and didn’t want to be left alone. What if I mess up and crash? She didn’t need a babysitter, but a second set of eyes and someone more confident at the helm would put her mind at ease.

  Brendle shook his head. “It’s likely the controllers are patched into our comms. So long as we maintain radio silence, they won’t know how many of us are onboard, or who we might be. I’m sure the controller recognized you as Luthian, but you showed no signs of distress or ill intent. It’s safer this way. Besides, Pilot will guide the ship safely down. All you have to do is trust him.” Brendle winked and Anki knew he was trying to make a joke, but she wasn’t much in the mood to being receptive to it.

  “Fine,” she said. “Get strapped in yourself after you let them know. There’s no telling just how bad this is going to go.” Anki was serious, despite the smile Brendle shot her at what he probably perceived -as her responding with humor. Sometimes I’m not sure he really gets me, Anki thought.

  “You’ll do fine,” Brendle said, his voice echoing lightly from the passageway leading out of the bridge.

  Anki was alone now, full command authority of the Replicade left in her unsure hands. “Pilot, are you there?”

  “Of course, Anki. I am always present.”

  Of course he is, she thought. That actually did bring a smile to her face.

  “I’m just curious; will we really be safe landing in this storm?”

  “My calculations are the storm will be dying down by time we are prepared to land. Faraxian storm systems are harsh, yet short-lived. The Replicade is lightweight and prone to manipulation by high winds, but all vectoring nozzles are fully functional, and I do not calculate any cause for concern. I will control the descent and landing if you wish.”

  That made Anki feel slightly better. “Please do.”

  “Affirmative, Captain.”

  “Captain?”

  “That was how you identified yourself to the controller. Was it not?”

  Anki shrugged, wondering if Pilot would have noticed. “It is, but I am only acting captain during this port,” she replied. There is no way in hell I’m ever doing this again. “Just in case we are being monitored, continue to address me as such.”

  “As you wish, Captain; deploying airfoil for stabilization and speed reduction. Please strap into your seat. I calculate a high probability of turbulence.”

  Anki did as Pilot requested; tightening the restraints snuggly around her body. She wasn’t keen on being on Farax for longer than necessary, but Brendle and Deis seemed to think it was the only world where they could afford repairs while going undetected. Anki wasn’t so sure, though. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her something was going to go wrong. She hated that feeling, but the last time she felt it, she had been right.

  “We will experience gyrations as we enter the inner atmosphere. By my calculations, we will have landing gear on the deck within half an hour.”

  “Thank you, Pilot,” she said as the Replicade dove into the thicker inner atmosphere, sending vibrations through the hull, rattling across the spine of the ship, and up through her seat. She closed her mouth as her teeth chattered together. This was a bad idea.

  A muted alert on the monitor preceded the aural caution of the AI by a fraction of a second. “We are being pinged,” Pilot said, breaking Anki’s concentration as she fought to disassociate herself from the fear creeping into her chest.

  “Who is it?”

  “The craft appears to be an unnamed transport.”

  “What should we do? Is it armed?”

  “The craft shouldn’t have a weapons system.”

  “Then how are the pinging us?” Anki asked, straining through fear to pry her eyes open and see the unknown craft on the monitor. It was a small vessel, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t damage the Replicade if it fired on them.

  “It would appear the craft is more than it seems. It is not a war vessel by design, but it is a common misuse of these kinds of vessels by pirates in this sector.”

  Great, Anki thought. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about. She had heard mention of piracy in other sectors, though it never existed in Luthia’s sector; or if it did, no one ever talked about it.

  “Can you evade them?”

  “We have a sixty-percent probability of evasion, though it is only a matter of time before our destination is discovered on such a small world.”

  Anki cursed under her breath. “Just do what you have to do to land safely and get us out of the red zone,” she snapped. If the transport couldn’t ping them, then they couldn’t fire with any real chance of hitting them. She didn’t want to be an easy target, if that was what their unsuspecting guests assumed they were. Where the hell is Brendle? This is his kind of thing to deal with. Anki reached for the comm,
but held fast. He had told her the controllers monitor shipboard comms. If she called him to the bridge, then he would be discovered and they would have twice the problems. He did say he was confident in her abilities to pilot the ship, though she doubted he meant it under such circumstances. To hell with it, she thought, it’s my ship now. She gripped the armrest of her seat and inhaled sharply. “If you need any ideas, just know, it’s you and me for now, Pilot.”

  “I am confident in our collective abilities, Captain.”

  “I’ll remind you of that if we get killed,” she said, adjusting the monitors so everything was easily accessible from her chair. If we’re going to die, I at least want to see it coming. The ship nose-dived, rolling left in a high-intensity evasive maneuver. Anki felt the blood rush to her head, the dull thud of her heart beating in her ears until the Replicade finally leveled out. Looking at the monitor she saw the transport changing vector, following them as it too increased in speed and velocity.

  “I am convinced the transport is following us,” Pilot said.

  “That’s obvious. Keep up the evasive maneuvers and don’t let up until we’ve lost them,” Anki order.

  “I cannot maintain that kind of flying without potentially causing harm to crew.”

  Anki shook her head, drawing thoughts of what Brendle would do under the same circumstances. Luckily, she knew exactly what he would do. She witnessed it firsthand when they escaped from the Telran.

  “I told you to do whatever it takes. Everyone had better be strapped in. if not, that’s their own fault. Now, get us away from this transport before they fire on us.”

  Without affirming the order, the AI aggressively maneuvered the Replicade, sending Anki’s head slamming against the headrest of her chair. It hurt, but that was all. She could handle the discomfort of erratic flying. Survival was more important. Each time the ship felt it was settling, she felt it lurch and climb, the g-forces pressing her back into her seat like the weight of the world was on her chest. Perhaps it is, she thought.

  Another roll to the right and steep climb gave her tunnel-vision. She held her breath, narrowing her eyelids as she fought to maintain focus on the would-be enemy following them. Each second of flight made focusing harder, the monitor blinking a red-hued alarm as the transport gained on them. She wanted to order Pilot to do something else; whatever the programing was doing wasn’t working. Instead, there was nothing more than a guttural groan. And then everything went black.

  8

  Brendle

  Brendle tightened the restraints across his shoulders and leaned back into the seat as his body shook under the strain of leaving vacuum. He watched Deis and Malikea do the same when the Replicade struck turbulence as it entered Farax’s upper atmosphere. The deceleration was drastic and caused his head to swim, but the disorientation wasn’t the worst part. To Brendle, the sensation of the Replicade entering Faraxian atmosphere felt like the ship was dragging its belly against the surface of a mountain, grinding away at the hull as it slowly decelerated in velocity. He could almost hear the sounds of metal being ripped away by the abrasive, rocky surface, but he knew it was only his imagination running wild, knowing he was not the one in control of the landing. Still, even if piloting the Replicade were in his hands, it was disconcerting to know a ship in need of significant repairs was entering such a turbulent atmosphere, screaming towards the surface as it blazed, scorching and leaving a trail of smoke in its wake.

  “She’ll do fine,” he said, the sound of his voice quivering as the mighty ship shook relentlessly. He used the most reassuring smile he could muster, despite the fear crushing the fast-beating heart in his chest. He didn’t want his concern to seep over to Deis and Malikea, which felt foolish, considering this was just as much their idea as his. Of course, he was the one who suggested Anki pilot the ship. At the time it seemed the best course of action just in case the controllers were to monitor the ship’s bridge. Instead, the controllers were quiet. Other than a confirmation for entering airspace, Anki had no communications with them whatsoever. Farax was indeed a different world, Brendle thought, and the realization made him wonder if all of this hardship was even necessary.

  Why did I put her up to this? He wondered what Anki was thinking at that moment. Does she think I abandoned her? I only wanted to give her the opportunity to trust herself, he thought. What does it say that I’m having second thoughts? The doubts coursing through his mind were maddening.

  “We are certain she will,” Malikea said as he cast a reassuring smile to his husband. Brendle wasn’t sure if he meant Anki or the ship, but either way it sounded reassuring. He needed that assurance just as much as they did. Malikea and Deis held hands, both resting against the cushioned armrest of the crash chairs they sat on. Deis did not seem to have the same enthusiasm as his lover did. Brendle noticed the glaze over Deis’ eyes as he looked as if he was fighting to stay conscious. He did not seem as afraid as he did incapable of holding himself together. It could have been a biological effect of having thinner blood, Brendle thought. Brendle shifted his gaze to Malikea, whose eyes revealed a nervousness he did not seem to want to reveal. The void in his eyes said more about what he was holding back than he probably wanted to reveal. Brendle didn’t think it was strictly fear, though fear was certainly a part of it. We all have our tells, Brendle thought, I just tend to wear mine on my sleeve.

  Brendle made eye contact, trying to think of something else to say that would take his mind off his own nervousness. If nothing else, he needed to put his own mind at ease. He moved his lips to speak, but he was cut off from the thought as the Replicade lurched to the port side and dropped quickly in altitude. The motion made him feel weightless for a moment before the left side of his head impacted the headrest to his seat. The strike made his ear ring and promoted a burning sensation on that side of his face. There may have been shouts of sudden terror in the room, but he was oblivious to it as he reached for a monitor and powered it on. The screen opened to a menu-screen, and it took a few moments of typed commands to give Brendle the information he was looking for. He was afraid Anki had lost control of the ship, or that the ship was experiencing a catastrophic drive failure, but that wasn’t the case. What he saw instead made him favor either of the other scenarios that came to mind. At least those were more easily managed.

  “Oh, shit,” he said. “We’re being pinged.” The screen illuminated red, the text revealing a myriad of information. To an expert eye, the information showed every parameter the ship monitored to enable the pilot of the craft to make sound decisions based on available power. In the heat of the moment, that data tended to get ignored. If was not that the information was not important, but to Brendle, the red pretty much said it all.

  “Who is it, Farax controllers?” Deis’ eyes were wide, as were Malikea’s as their grips on each other’s hands tightened until their gray-hued knuckles turned white.

  Brendle typed in more commands, trying to get a read out on the other craft’s transponder, but it had been wiped. Pirates, he thought, and they aren’t even trying to hide it through a masked transponder. It was the only logical conclusion. Nowhere else had he ever experienced spacecraft flying without transponder codes, and there was no way in hell a law enforcement agency would fly dark like that. Besides, they were on Farax, a relative treasure trove of piracy in this sector. Brendle swore under his breath as he tried to find some other way to identify the vessel. It was a move that didn’t prove fruitful; he couldn’t get a reading on the drive signature, the second most important way to identify a ship.

  “I’m not positive, but I think it is a pirate craft. That’s the only other instance I’ve ever seen an armed transport vessel,” Brendle answered. He almost wished it was something else as the transport closed in on them. Brendle wasn’t absolutely sure it was armed, but if the transport was painting the Replicade red, then it probably had some kind of armament to back up the threat it screamed so loudly. Otherwise, being an unarmed ship targeting an extremely well-a
rmed ship was a good way to die.

  “It’s not military?” Deis asked.

  Brendle shook his head. “There’s no way it’s military,” he answered as he desperately scrolled through the monitor. “There’re laws about transponders being masked or dark. If it was military, they would be violating intergalactic law. Not a good idea in the Greshian sector. Trust me on that one.”

  “I told you this was a bad idea,” Malikea said.

  Brendle looked up, thinking the comment was intended for him, but he saw Malikea’s gaze, stabbing like daggers at Deis. “We don’t really have time for casting the blame here, guys,” Brendle said, hoping to defuse the situation. The tension is thick enough you can cut it with a knife. The last thing I need is to be distracted by you two bickering.

  “I’m sorry, Captain, but this was a bad idea,” Malikea pleaded as if he could justify his negativity.

  Brendle shot a glance up at Malikea, his green eyes narrowing into the yellow orbs of the Lechun man. He had no interest in defending a plan they conjured up together. The situation was a byproduct of their decision; the blame was equal across the board. Well, all but for Anki, Brendle thought, feeling guilty all the more. “Duly noted, but our plan stays the same. Besides, we don’t have much of a choice now.”

  “If we survive, you mean?”

  Brendle could see Deis shooting a cold stare back at his husband. There is obviously something unresolved going on there, he thought, but now wasn’t the time to bring it up. Besides, it’s none of my business; at least not right now. “Sure, if that thought makes you feel any better about it. In the meantime, we need to evade this transport.” He tried to type in evasive commands, but realized the monitor wasn’t responding. Dammit, he thought, the autopilot is engaged and can only be disengaged from the bridge. “I need to get to the bridge,” he said, moving to remove one of the straps across his body as the Replicade dove again, providing a momentary loss of gravity that made him feel dizzy.