It was painfully obvious when the first gravitic shield went down. The flaring blue light went lightning-bright, outlining the shield, and then it shattered like an enormous plate of glass. An entire swarm of missiles, sensing the opening, altered course and flashed through the hole, each slamming into the unprotected hull beneath in terrible, rapid succession. Gouts of burning wreckage spewed out into space and the ship began to fall out of formation trailing a stream of sparkling white condensate.
With the failure of the first shield, the entire system had clearly become compromised, and a cascade of shimmering blue plates flashed and shattered, scattering sparks back against the squat hull. Bolts of energy flew through the widening gap, accompanying another shoal of missiles, and suddenly where a massive, proud warship had struggled for existence, nothing but a brief, fiery star and an expanding field of debris remained.
A collective moan rose up around her as the ship died. She searched her heart for her own reaction. Was she sad to see the Council ship brought low? Glad? All she could feel was the cold despair of the helpless observer, as terrible violence crashed around her.
The wreckage spun off in all directions, wreaking havoc with the Peacemaker fleet formation. Much of it was caught in the weak gravity field of Penumbra itself, and tumbling chunks of warship fell among the towers, sowing their own crop of destruction and misery. One section, it looked like it had been the bow from what she could remember of the ship’s configuration, fell, spinning, into the city and, accompanying the small, sterile visual on the display, the decking beneath her lurched. She reached out for support and ended up holding onto the rough-furred arm of an Ntja soldier. He looked at her, his thick lips pulled back in a sneer, and shook her off.
She turned back to the display just in time to watch the attacking fleet alter its flight pattern, engines tilting downward and pushing the ships in a smooth, choreographed maneuver that sent them skimming along the top of the Peacemaker formation. The two remaining Council battleships began to come about, but the bulk of the fleet hung between them and the fleeing attackers. More and more of the smaller Council ships fell out of formation to give chase, and soon the attackers were streaking down toward the distant planet, a tail of Peacemaker ships in their wake.
A constant cascade of colored bolts and streaking missiles continued to pour out of the attackers’ weapons, goading the Ntja into a thoughtless, headlong pursuit. The battle was not entirely one-sided, however, as the Ntja ships finally began to return fire, and space between the two formations was bright with streaks of death and destruction, with countless small suns erupting and dying within the clouds of the two fleets as smaller ships succumbed to the onslaught.
As she watched, the defensive fleet was stripped away as if by a strong wind. The skies above Penumbra were clear, her eyes widened as she saw something none of the commanders around her had yet noticed.
Another singularity had opened up, almost exactly where the first had been. A much smaller fleet of ships fell through as she watched. These were squat, ugly ships, not nearly as large as the warships in the first wave. And leading the charge was a ship she recognized. Its sleek lines, the swept-back configuration of its wings, and its outthrust command module were familiar to any citizen of Penumbra.
Her lips quirked into a tentative smile.
Angara Ksaka had returned.
*****
Angara was prone in the command chair, hands tight within the interface fields and mind lost to the symbiotic relay of information and power she shared with the Yud’ahm Na’uka. The sensitive instruments of her ship told her that K’hzan’s plan had worked. The Council fleet, embarrassed and enraged by the sudden attack and the loss of one of its most prominent components, had followed the Variyar attack force as it inserted itself into a high orbit around the planet below.
The defenders would be gone for a while. Even if they realized what was happening, they were now committed to their current course. They would have to follow their orbital path around the planet and come at the city from the reciprocal angle. By then, if everything worked according to the next phase of their plan, it would be too late.
Behind her, strapped into reaction chairs, Justin watched over her shoulders with wide eyes, along with four of K’hzan’s honor guard, uncomfortably cramped within the confines of a ship made for much smaller creatures.
Marcus and the two Thien’ha were with one of the Variyar transports sticking closely to her flank. K’hzan had made it a condition of his involvement that Marcus make the approach in one of the more heavily armed and armored troop transports. She had fought him, but when he had also pointed out that Justin and Marcus needed to be split, in case another Earth Human was capable of engaging the Skorahn if Marcus was lost, she gave in. She would not consider that too closely, but she had noticed the look Justin had given her when K’hzan had mentioned the Children back at the pirate station, and for some reason, that moment had stuck with her through all the planning, exhaustive waiting, and gut-wrenching action since then. In the end, she was carrying Justin, and the thick-bodied transport hugging her glittering back trail held Marcus Wells and the mystics.
Far overhead, the Variyar fleet was leading the defenders off on a merry chase. The massive warship that had been destroyed was an unlooked for bonus, although the collateral damage its destruction caused was going to make things more difficult for whoever won the battle, when it came time to recover and rebuild Penumbra.
Angara made for the wide entranceway to the main docking bay beneath the Red Tower. The plan called for them to drive straight in, make a landing in force, and push their way up through the Tower to the control center with the power of the Variyar warriors as the tip of their spear. They expected Taurani to be directing the defenses from there, with the medallion around his neck. If Marcus could get his hands on the Skorahn, the whole battle would, theoretically, be over.
As she swept around the shoulder of one squat tower, however, she saw things were not going to be quite that simple. Boxy defensive turrets that had remained dormant for longer than the oldest denizen of the city could remember were swiveling back and forth, searching for targets. A black mob of soldiers, many shouldering heavy weapon systems, were massed just behind the bay’s containment field. The field kept the vacuum out and the atmosphere in, but would do nothing to stop those weapons from ravaging what she had come to think of as her own little fleet.
Behind the mob of Ntja soldiers were even bigger shapes, looming in the background, indistinct behind the fog of the field. Seeing them made her blood run cold: Ntja heavy infantry. Just one would be more than a match for several Variyar, even at their peak. And she thought she saw an entire unit readying to repel them as they attempted to land.
Splashes of color began to streak up past them as the more overeager troopers below unleashed their attacks. One lucky blast caught the Na’uka on the nose, and the cabin lights dimmed with the power transfer to her gravitic shielding. The turrets were slower to engage, zeroing in on chosen targets based upon ancient formulae of threat assessment and battlefield conditions.
“Primary landing zone is closed.” She thought of her squadron channel and murmured her assessment. Her implants would enhance the signal and see that the correct commanders received her message. “Shifting course for alternate entrance point.”
The control surfaces of her swift ship slid around the fuselage and pushed the ship away from the docking bay. Skimming the surface of a tower, she swept around the glittering hull. Behind her, the heavy Variyar transports followed, although several of them, emotionally charged with their first taste of real battle, launched spiteful attacks on the troops lined up against them as they flew past.
Darts of energy and streaking flashes of heat snapped through the containment field with scintillating ripples of silver, falling among the Ntja soldiers, blasting holes in their ranks and sowing chaos throughout the bay. Even the towering heavy infantry ran for cover from the ship-borne ordnance falling amo
ng them.
The turrets opened fire as soon as the transports attacked, and three of the large ships were shattered in a matter of moments, wreckage flung back away from the city, spiraling off into space. A quick flicker of a closed eye ensured her that Marcus’s ship was not among the lost.
“They waited until the ships actually fired!” Marcus’s voice was loud over the link. “They were engaging much faster when we tested them.”
She had had the same thought. The city was supposed to engage hostiles immediately when in active defensive mode. Something was causing the system to slow down.
Maybe they had more than a forlorn hope after all.
“We are heading for the executive landing bay.” She checked her status, her ship remained unharmed. The one lucky blast had not overloaded her systems or caused other ancillary damage. “They will be ready for us. It will be more heavily defended and we will not be able to land as many shuttles, but if the city’s systems are hesitating, we might be able to get in.”
Acknowledgments came in from the surviving assault ships. To avoid the highest concentrations of defensive turrets, most of which were oriented against attacks from above rather than enemies that had already penetrated the city itself, she decided to get closer to the Red Tower before they were required to confront the full force of Penumbra’s defenses.
Before she had even finished the thought, solid beams of light flashed down from above, spearing through her formation. With a muttered curse she jerked the Na’uka into a tight spiral. Nevertheless, one of the bolts fell on her ship. It exploded against her shields in multicolored sparks. Several of the transports had been hit as well.
Most of the gravitic fields held, but one ship, at the tail of their formation, was struck a glancing blow to its flank and began to stagger out of the line. Its commander reported that they were losing flight integrity, but were going to attempt to land on the surface of the Concourse and make some trouble for the Council forces from there.
She acknowledged the report, wished the warriors luck, and turned her mind back to the matter at hand. The defensive turrets around the Red Tower obviously had greater flexibility than they had anticipated. Nearly every one of her ships had taken fire now. In fact, her eyes narrowed as she flicked through information scrolling by her peripheral vision; only one ship had made it through the gauntlet unscathed.
“It’s going to get worse as we approach the bay.” Marcus shouted again. The adrenaline had gotten the better of him, clearly. “And there’s too many of us to all fit.”
“Not if we keep losing ships at this rate!” Justin’s voice was harsh with emotion, but she took a strange sense of comfort from the fact that the sound of his voice was in her ears rather than through her implants. “We’re not all lucky enough to have a Tigan princess for a pilot, you know!”
She gritted her teeth. Not only were the Variyar on the channel not likely to appreciate the joke, but she hated it when anyone called her that. Trust Justin to pick up on K’hzan’s little barb. Still, she had more to occupy her mind than petty bickering, and bent to it.
She had never been fully comfortable with their back-up plan. Although there were auxiliary bays scattered up and down the Tower, each could only handle a single oversized transport. The administrator’s executive bay would be able to hold three at least, four if the follow-on pilots were any good. But even four ships would not carry enough warriors to blast their way into the control center alone.
This, admittedly less-well-thought-out contingency plan, called for them to swarm the Tower and gather at one of the lift tube foyers before pushing on. It would be even more dangerous given the versatility of the defenses and the warning Taurani’s forces now had.
“We don’t have a choice.” She spoke in her calm battle voice, trusting to her implants to convey the proper tone. “It’s the best way to reach him, Marcus.”
There was a pause, and for a moment she was afraid an errant shot might have brought Marcus’s transport down behind her. A quick check showed that it was still soaring, its flanks unmarred by damage or shield overload. She shook her head, hoping no one up above them was noticing.
“Understood.” Marcus’s tone was softer. She wondered if someone might have told him to temper his volume. “Let’s send in a transport first, then us, then you, then another transport, if it fits?”
The Yud’ahm Na’uka’s sensors had already determined that there would be room enough, depending on the skill of the pilots. But one thing bothered her about that plan. “I will follow the lead transport in. That will give the warriors more time to secure the bay, and assure us of a tighter landing pattern.”
Another pause brought her teeth grinding together. Was she going to have to force his hand every step of the way? When he finally responded, it was with a grudging tone. “Fine. Just get down quickly so we can all get back together. I’m not enjoying this separation.”
She smiled, and knew that Justin was smiling behind her. “I agree, Marcus Wells. We will see you in the bay.”
A curt order brought the Variyar formation more tightly into her wake, and they swept up and around, effectively reversing their approach vector. More shots rained down on them from above, as well as occasional blasts from smaller access ports scattered around the surrounding towers. None of the automatic fire hit Marcus’s transport.
She gritted her teeth as she prepared to come flaring up before the executive docking bay, ready to plunge her treasured ship into the heart of the Red Tower.
As she flew, she took a moment to wonder if Marcus had realized his charmed status.
*****
“Iphini Bha, where are they!” The roar was attenuated through the communications system, and it was clear that Ambassador Taurani was out of breath, rushing to the control center from the Mhatrong meeting chamber.
“I swear, girl, if you do not respond—”She could sense his burning anger through the signal even without visual confirmation.
“Assault ships have been turned back from an attack on the main docking bay. They have suffered severe casualties moving through the city, following an erratic pattern.” She kept her voice steady despite the growing fear and tension building in her chest. The stylus was once again spinning smoothly around her fingers as if it moved of its own accord.
She had every piece of information concerning the attackers scattered in front of her, but her stomach burned at any thought of giving further assistance to the beast. The medallion hung around her neck, dragging her head down with its useless weight.
If she could only manage to die in this counterattack, she would be done with the whole mess, and no more decisions would be required of her.
“Where are they now!” the Kerie barked, and even the Ntja commanders recoiled from the console. They exchanged looks over Iphini’s head, and then glanced down at her, waiting for her to respond.
She blinked, shaking her head. “It looks like they are coming back around to try to assault the Tower. Here. This tower. The Red Tower.” Her voice stuttered to a halt.
“Are the city’s defenses fighting them? Have you dispatched combat teams to the executive landing bay? Damnit, Bha, I can’t conduct the defense of the city while I sprint down corridors!”
She nodded, although he could not see her. “The automatic defenses have engaged the attackers.” She tilted her head to access the relevant information. “They have lost five transports, with two others forced into emergency landings.” The stylus continued to spin.
One of the Ntja cleared its throat with a low, rumbling growl and tapped a small portable pad with one gnarled claw. The display was flashing with an urgent message she had been doing her best to ignore.
“The systems are reporting more sluggish response times than we had anticipated.” She straightened her back and spoke with as clear a voice as she could muster.
The claw tapped on the display by her elbow again, this time with enough force to nick the screen.
Iphini Bha closed her ey
es with a sad, pain-filled sigh. She spoke without opening them. “Analysis of the systems indicates they are avoiding engagement of a single, particular transport.”
She could hear Taurani’s heavy breathing through the link. When that breathing suddenly stopped, her eyes popped open. Somewhere beneath her, the Council Ambassador had stopped his headlong dash for the control center.
“The system itself is avoiding one of the shuttles?” The words were flat and emotionless.
She could feel the hulking soldiers looming over her to either side. She had no choice. “Yes, sir.”
“The Human.” Taurani filled the words with venom. The breathing resumed, even harsher if possible than before. “Dispatch support weapon teams to the area! Identify this lucky transport and destroy it at all costs!”
She stared down at the console. She knew this would happen if she gave him that information. She had avoided doing that for as long as possible, trying to give the attackers as much lead time as she could. Even now, she could not bring herself to relay the order to the commanders standing over her.
“Sir, most of your forces are deployed around the bay. Redeploying them now will weaken the defenses—”
“None of that will matter if that damned Human filth is allowed to tread on the decks of this city again! Send the teams!”
Her shoulders lifted slightly, her head tilting. “What weapons were you thinking, sir? I assume”
“Commander Bochia, are you there?” A chill went up her spine as he addressed one of the Ntja commanders, ignoring her at last.
The Ntja stiffened. “Yes, Ambassador.”
The commander had the black uniform of a fleet officer. His manner was not as obsequious as the brown-suited diplomatic guards. Likewise, unfortunately, there was nothing in his tone that gave her hope he would not follow orders, either.
“You have heard the order I just gave Deputy Bha?” Taurani bit the words out, their edges sharp.
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