I wanted to tell her. Wanted to spill the beans about what I’d found out - what Isabelle had told me. But I couldn’t. It was information a grunt like me wouldn’t have, Ranger or not. My need for secrecy, to maintain my cover identity, overwhelmed my anger. “We almost got caught in a trap,” I hedged, thinking fast. “I don’t want to see that happen again.”
“You think the Federation would nuke its own people?”
“If it’s for the greater good, yeah,” I said, mimicking the pair of words my father and cousin were fond of using. “What are the lives of a few Rangers compared to how many millions or billions who will die if the virus makes it off that asteroid intact? Imagine it being released on Tar Ebon.”
“It would be an apocalyptic event,” she agreed. “There’d be no stopping it.”
“At least then they’d know our pain,” I grumbled. Maybe a few billion more undead would help even the cosmic scales and end the ostracizing I’d witnessed thus far.
My friend lowered her voice. “Some of the others were talking about getting back at the living,” Julianna said.
My eyes narrowed. “Getting back how?” That was dangerous talk. Treasonous talk.
“Something big, that’s all I know.”
“Who is talking about it?”
She hesitated, as if realizing she’d said too much.
“I won’t tell,” I promised.
“Captain Wilson, Colonel Schattler.”
My eyebrows raised in surprise. “All the way from the top?”
“It sounds like it goes beyond them. They’re just one cog in the wheel, but undead inside and outside the military are angry at the mistreatment. They want action.”
“Does this movement have a name?”
“They call themselves the Dread Legion.”
“Sounds dreadfully ominous,” I said, smirking.
“Shut up. I’m serious.”
“Why haven’t I heard about it?”
“You’ve been holed in your bunk for the past three weeks,” she pointed out. “When you’re not training. Nobody’s had the chance to speak to you.”
“Oh. Developments are happening that quick?”
“Well, no,” she began, hesitant again. “I’ve known about it for months. But we’ve only recently started reaching outside of the inner circle.”
My friend was in an “inner circle” and hadn’t told me anything about it? I felt a twinge of anger that she hadn’t shared the information with me. But then again, I hadn’t told her about my true heritage in all this time either.
“So, are you in?”
“Do I have to give an answer right now?” The truth was I wanted to say no, but was afraid of retaliation. If I wasn’t with them, would they consider me their enemy?
“Soon,” she said, unhelpfully.
“Let me think on it,” I replied, buying time.
I SAT ABOARD THE Dread Stallion, the cover name for the Daedalus, as it shifted out of shadow space. On the display, the asteroid field neared.
Not being near the bridge, I couldn’t hear what communications were transpiring. But I imagined the Xanos Reapers questioning the bridge, asking for confirmation codes or their transponder signal and business in the region before they blew us away.
Things must have gone according to plan, because the ship didn’t take evasive action and no calls to prepare for shift came. Instead the ship remained on course for the large asteroid.
I tugged at my new uniform. We’d ditched any trace of advanced Federation armor in favor of crude armor true pirates would use. My own uniform consisted of an ill-fitting tan tunic beneath a breastplate. Armor plating covered my wrists, forearm, the back of my hands, thighs, knees, ankles and groin, but it was disjointed and not formed of a single piece like Federation armor was. It was uncomfortable and left me feeling extra vulnerable.
Fortunately for me, I had my gravity manipulation powers to fall back on in lieu of armor. But as I’d found out, using my power offensively, like to suck people into the singularity, drained my energy faster than using it defensively to absorb lasers or projectiles.
Twenty minutes after shifting into the system, the asteroid base loomed ahead. Dozens of defense batteries bristled along the surface of the asteroid. Two fighters streaked toward us and took up escort formation. I harbored no doubt they would turn on our ship in an instant if given a reason. Pirates weren’t given a cutthroat reputation for no reason.
A few minutes later, the Dread Stallion touched down in the massive landing bay and a clank suggested the landing clamps locking into place. If they didn’t want us to leave, we would need to cut the landing clamps in order to get out. A look at the external displays showed three other corvettes similar in size to our ship, multiple transport ships and freighters and dozens of starfighters. They weren’t messing around when it came to security.
“All right team,” Lieutenant Fanshawe said entering the ready-room. “Listen up. Remember the plan and your backstories. You all have your targets. Use your encrypted squad channel to communicate once you’re in position, then await orders.”
Lieutenant Juliet Fanshawe was Captain Wilson’s living stand-in for this mission. He was with the fleet and the rest of the Seventy-Fifth, since only two companies had been requisitioned for this mission. It wouldn’t do for a corvette to be housing more than one hundred pirates - that would raise suspicion. And Captain Wilson claimed his face was widely circulated, hence he deferred to the lieutenant.
The rear door to the ship opened and the ramp lowered. A well-dressed man in a suit stood there, with two dozen guards pointing their weapons toward us.
The lieutenant strode calmly down the ramp while the rest of us prepared to disembark with crates and other containers. Our official story was that we were smugglers. The cover story also explained why we were only allowed to wear two side-arms per person - smugglers didn’t often use heavy weapons.
“We have several crates of cargo,” the lieutenant began. “Food, mechanical and medical supplies.”
The man in the suit bowed. “Excellent. Mister Helinski will be pleased.” He held out a hand. “I just need a copy of your manifest so I may validate it against our records.”
A lump formed in my throat. This wasn’t part of the plan. Advanced validation of manifests among pirates and smugglers? Who would have thought? Well, someone should have, because it seemed we were about to be caught. I fingered the hilt of my pistol, shifting slightly to ensure I had a clear line of sight of my soon-to-be foes.
“Of course,” Lieutenant Fanshawe said smoothly, offering a datapad.
The man in the suit studied the data on the pad, then tapped into his own pad. He pursed his lips.
I firmly grasped the hilt of my pistol this time, preparing to draw and already picking a target - a big man with bushy eyebrows standing next to the suited man. He looked like he would be dangerous in a firefight.
At last the suited man smiled and returned the datapad to the lieutenant. “Everything looks to be in order. Please proceed to these areas with your loads.” He produced a data chip and handed it over.
I released the grip I’d had on my pistol and relaxed my muscles slightly. Then I bent over and picked up two crates of medical supplies with the ease of my undead strength.
The plan called for separate groups of our team to reach key areas on the asteroid base, then, when the signal was given, strike in unison. Acting too early and giving advance warning to the enemy could be disastrous and could foil the Federation Navy’s attack plan entirely.
My area was the shield generator, which, according to intel, was located near the laboratory. Assuming that was correct, I would drop my supplies, which secretly contained rifles and heavy weapons, and my team would make for the shield generator when the signal was given. It was a bit of a flimsy plan, but under no circumstances could the virus be allowed to leave the asteroid. I imagined the Federation setting up a blockade and losing dozens of ships as the Xanos Reapers chose this proverbi
al hill to die on. Even with a blockade, all it took was one ship to get out and it could spread like wildfire across the Federation.
Julianna, myself and four other Rangers were assigned to the first group. The second group of six Rangers would make for the weapons control center, with their crates containing mechanical parts. The third group carrying foodstuffs would make for the communication center in order to signal the fleet. The thick asteroid would not permit long distance communication with just our implants or even with the Daedalus. Only using the external array would work.
The final group, consisting of two dozen Rangers, would remain with the lieutenant and prepare to wreak havoc in the hangar bay once the chaos began. The Daedalus had been stripped of its gunships and fighter complements for this mission, but it still had its external weapons. The landing clamps would still need to be dealt with before we could exfiltrate.
The three remote groups departed the corvette-disguised-as-a-freighter and split in separate directions.
Crew members we passed paid us no mind as we moved through the cavernous tunnels.
I reached out with my power as I walked. Below our feet, gravity waves pulsed out, keeping people and objects on the ground as if they were on a planet the size of Tar Ebon.
We reached the medical section, a facility within a cavern of the asteroid. Security, if you could call it that, waved us through and grunted out directions to where to bring the supplies. According to the schematics, the shield generator was beyond the medical facility. There should be a door on the far side of the warehouse.
Once inside the facility, we saw more evidence of security surrounding one particular door at the far end of the hallway and signs proclaiming “restricted” with pictures of vials and a skull and crossbones. That must be where they’re developing the virus.
Miss, I’m detecting a magic nullification field approximately one hundred and twenty yards ahead.
Makes sense. One mage getting in there could set fire to the whole place. And the normal guards wouldn’t be able to stop them easily.
Jarvis didn’t reply. He seemed to have learned when I was talking to myself or talking to him and kept quiet most days. If there was an analytical question, he was always ready with answers, but he lacked personality. Maybe one day I’d get around to improving his programming.
We took a right, as directed, and reached the medical supply warehouse. I set down my two crates and stretched, looking around. Dozens of piles filled the warehouse, while hover-lifts and workers moved this way and that. A large door at the far end of the warehouse caught my eye. The door to the shield generator, as expected.
Julianna and the other four Rangers looked toward me, each having dropped their load as well. “Now we wait,” I said. “Command, this is med team. We are in place.”
“Acknowledged, med team,” the lieutenant said. “Stand by for signal and maintain radio silence.”
I clicked in response, then sighed.
“You know it’ll look suspicious if we sit here for too long,” Julianna pointed out.
“Start opening the crates and unload...slowly,” I said. “Then we hope the other teams do their jobs fast.” Hurry, I thought.
I’d unloaded my crate down to the layer of medications above my rifle and unloaded the other crate entirely. The comms team had checked in, but the weapons control team hadn’t yet. We couldn’t go much slower.
“Weapons team compromised!” a male voice shouted through the comms. “We are pinned down and unable to reach the target.”
Shit, I thought, remembering the saying about the best laid plans of mice and men. Well, we were the mice about to be squashed if we didn’t move. I swiveled my head from side-to-side, but the workers had disappeared. “They’re on to us.” I activated my comm. “Lieutenant, I think we’ve been made. Recommend we move now.”
“Comms and med teams, you are a go. If either team is able, make for the weapons center on your way out.”
I reached into my crate and withdrew my rifle, grenades, utility belt, a pack of heavy explosives and my electro-staff. I checked my rifle and turned the safety off. Locked and loaded.
The others had just dug their weapons out when red alarms along the walls lit up, sirens sounded and the door at the far end of the warehouse burst open. A dozen or more warehouse workers with pistols rushed in.
I fired a burst in their direction and then dove for cover behind a crate. The others did the same.
Laser fire burned into the metal crates and flashed overhead, searing the air.
I whipped out a grenade, armed it and tossed it toward our enemies, who dove for cover. The explosion took out two or three of them.
A laser slammed into the crate next to my shoulder. “They’re behind us!” Julianna warned.
Three Rangers swiveled to face the newcomers, while me and the other two continued firing at the first group of pirates. We couldn’t keep this up for long. We would run out of ammo.
I must do something, I thought. But what could I do? Summon a singularity and send it toward them? Swallowing that many bodies would probably knock me unconscious.
Create a shield to absorb their shots? Yes, but I couldn’t make a shield completely around us and hold it for long, and they could just wait us out, which would mean the mission failed.
Wait, I thought. The anti-gravity generator on the asteroid. It still pulsed, like a distant heartbeat. What if I could somehow turn it off, even temporarily? “I’m going to try something!” I shouted. “Cover me!”
I closed my eyes and reached out toward the source of the gravity. Down, down and to the left. Like waves in the ocean pounding the beach. I rode the waves with my mind’s eye, like surfing on an ocean of pure darkness. Down my mind spiraled until I reached the dark heart of the asteroid.
“All Rangers, activate mag-boots,” I ordered through the comm channel. “I’m about to do something crazy.” I activated my own mag-boots. Without waiting for a response, I twisted the gravity source and...there...I changed it from emitting gravity to emitting anti-gravity.
The effect came near-instantly, as I felt a repulsion negated only by the power of magnetism present in my boots. The enemy, not having heard our words, rose into the air, arms flapping, weapons floating from their startled grips.
In that moment, they became like fish in a floating barrel. I fired at first one target and then another and another. The velocity of the bullets overcame the lack of gravity so they flew straight. My comrades joined in and within a minute dozens of corpses floated to the roof of the cavern.
“Quick, to the shield generator,” I ordered.
“Are you going to reverse whatever it was you did?” Julianna said. “Or are we just going to keep walking like this?” She demonstrated by deactivating one boot and lifted her leg, then took a step and reactivated it. She repeated the step with the second foot.
I grunted. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “We don’t have time for me to re-enable. And we don’t know how many more enemies are still out there, floating around. If I reverse the effect it would put us back at square one.”
The matter settled, we made for the far door. Once we got the system down - deactivate, step, activate, repeat with second foot - we seemed to make almost normal progress.
Blood floated toward the ceiling from the corpses. Unlike zero gravity, this was anti-gravity, so we were essentially stuck to the ceiling looking toward the floor. It wasn’t a powerful anti-gravity field because it fought the natural gravity produced by the mass of the asteroid, but it still meant everything eventually floated to the ceiling if it was heavy enough. Looking back, even the crates were rising a bit more off the ground every moment.
We passed through the door which would lead us to the shield generator and found ourselves in a long hallway. Several enemy guards were pinned to the ceiling or had grabbed on to door handles, outcroppings or anything to keep them on the floor. Some with mag-boots had been clever enough to clamp to the walls, so they stood on the s
ide.
But still, the disorientation of their awkward positions made them easy pickings for our team. We cut through them, leaving none alive. God knew they wouldn’t show us any mercy, given the chance.
“Comms team is in position,” a voice said through the squad channel.
“Signal the fleet,” the lieutenant ordered.
The door at the far end of the hall opened without incident and there stood the shield generator. It was a large rotating cylinder with thick cables running toward the roof of the asteroid at various points. I presumed those went to the shield generator emitters, which would send the energy field to emitters on the other side of the asteroid, creating a blanket around the enemy base. But there was only one generator, and we were going to blow it to hell.
Surprisingly, few guards floated in the shield generator room. A few lab techs looked to be floating in a control room, but we didn’t bother with them. We didn’t want to shut the generator down temporarily.
“Spread out evenly around the base. Place your charges but do not arm until I give the command,” I said. “Lieutenant, this is shield team. We are moving into position around the shield generator at this time.”
“Good, shield team. Whatever you did to reverse the gravity sent pirates into disarray. Once you’re done, get your asses to the weapon control center to support comms team.”
“Have we had any more contact from weapons team?”
“Negative,” her voice sounded grim. “The mission comes first. Without those weapons down our navy stands to take heavy losses on their attack runs.”
“Understood. Team One out,” I said, closing the channel.
The six of us spread out and placed charges around the shield generator. “Set for two minutes,” I ordered, setting my own charge for two minutes. My finger hovered over the arm button. “On my mark. Mark.” Beep, the charge was armed.
We clumped our way back the way we’d come and were halfway down the hall when the charges detonated. A sickening screech of metal accompanied the shield generator falling apart. Mission accomplished.
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