by M. R. Forbes
“Roger, Sergeant. I’m moving into position.”
“Nice work, Sergeant,” Riley said. “You got it off our tail.”
And onto mine, Caleb wanted to say. He held the comment back, focusing on evading the sphere’s attack. How did it stop and go on a dime like that? The change in inertia alone should have torn the ship to pieces.
It didn’t matter. It was on his ass, and it was about to blow him to hell. He zigged and zagged chaotically ahead of it, doing his best to at least get it heading away from the Deliverance. He kept his peripheral vision on the tactical map, watching Orla’s position relative to his and the target as she tried to get across its flank to take a shot at its underbelly.
“Sergeant, I’m almost in position,” she said a few seconds later. “It keeps rotating to track you, sir. I need you to fly in a straight line.”
“It’ll kill me if I fly in a straight line,” Caleb replied.
“Negative, sir. When it tries to destroy you, I’ll destroy it.”
“You sound confident.”
“Yes, sir.”
Caleb breathed out, swallowing hard. If she missed the shot, he was dead. But if she missed the shot, they were all going to die.
It went against every instinct he had, but somehow he managed to think the Dagger into flying in a straight line. One last bolt ripped past him, catching the edge of his left wing. There was a pause as the sphere adjusted and prepared the next round.
Too easy.
“No,” Caleb said. It was too easy. “It’s a trap.”
In his mind, he pictured spinning hard and tight, coming around with his rifle shouldered and ready to fire. The fighter responded to the thought, firing vectoring thrusters at full power and throwing him hard to the side. His replacement arm smashed into the cockpit, denting the side as he eyed the reticle. The sphere began to spin, coming to a full stop to face Orla as she approached. The plates spread aside.
He opened fire with everything he had. Some of the shots missed, but not all. They sank in past the armor, blasting through the skeleton beneath. The sphere managed to fire too, and its beam scored a direct hit on the incoming Dagger, cutting it in half from front to rear.
“Nooooo!” Caleb screamed, his anger causing the CUTS to increase power output to the lasers. They continued blasting into the drone, burning through its heart and tearing it to pieces. “You son of a bitch.” He kept shooting, ignoring the warning beeps in his helmet as he worked to drain the Dagger’s reactor.
“Alpha!” Flores shouted through the comm. “Stand down! Alpha! It’s destroyed.”
Caleb caught himself suddenly, grabbing the helmet and yanking it from his head. Immediately, the shooting stopped, the fighter floating static in space. The other Dagger was drifting away from him.
Orla was dead.
“Son of a bitch,” Caleb repeated. He clenched his jaw and his fists, furious at the outcome of the fight. He had to calm himself down, or he wouldn’t be able to get his Dagger back under control. He closed his eyes, taking a few breaths.
She had died to save them, just like Sho. He had led her to her death, just like Sho. He knew it was part of the job. It was part of being at war.
He hated that part of it.
“Target destroyed. Nice work, Sergeant,” Riley said over the comm.
Her voice was like a different kind of dagger, stabbing into his head and his heart. He punched his human hand into his leg, and then slowly pulled the helmet back on. He rotated the fighter toward the Deliverance and started the short but painful and lonely journey back.
Chapter 50
Caleb quickly found the short journey home wasn’t going to be as short as he’d thought.
The Deliverance slowed as it approached Essex, but the fight against the drone had left him a good distance from the ship, and his emotional response to Orla’s death had caused him to drain too much power from the batteries in too little a time.
The result was a potentially lethal combination that left the Dagger rocketing toward the escaping starship and closing the gap much more slowly than he wanted. He had a six-minute window to get the starfighter back into the hangar, and every estimate from the CUTS was putting his arrival at almost eight.
He could hardly believe it was all going to end like this. All of his efforts, and he wasn’t going to die fighting a trife, a Reaper, or an alien AI or drone. He was going to run out of power, freeze to death, and drift away.
At least he would be out here with Sho and Orla. At least he wouldn’t be completely alone.
That wasn’t what it felt like looking around. There was so much darkness. So much emptiness. And at the same time, there was so much life on Essex. The planet wasn’t brown and gray and dead. It had water and vegetation and weather. It was like Earth, only not like Earth. A new world. It looked so peaceful from here. But was it peaceful? The AI wanted to get to the surface. The drone was protecting the surface. Was this the homeworld of the aliens who had sent the trife? Was it an outpost? Riley had to know the truth about the planet, didn’t she? She had brought them here to fight the aliens, after all. Against their knowledge. Against their will.
And if he didn’t make it back to the ship, she was going to get away with it.
He flipped through the CUTS menus, looking for anything that might be useful. It was so easy to fly the craft, it almost made it feel more like a toy than a piece of military equipment. The hard part was controlling his thoughts to keep the fighter in line. Negative thinking caused it to slow down, while eagerness and focus would get it to speed up.
The throttle was already maxed out, the fighter continuing to add velocity at the same time Deliverance was shedding it. The large main thrusters were all dark, shut down probably for good. The retro-thrusters and the vectoring thrusters were pushing back against the craft, jets of blue flame spurting out around the bow. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly and yet so slowly at the same time. Right now, six minutes felt like forever.
There were no overrides in the menus. Nothing he could use to go faster. He fought to keep his emotions in check, his mind tight and on the target ahead. The CUTS was doing its best to get him there, and there was little to do but go along for the ride.
One minute passed. Two minutes. Three. The Deliverance loomed larger ahead of him, the gap closing more quickly. Three minutes until they hit the thermosphere. Three minutes until he couldn’t make it back on board. He seemed so close and yet so far. He could reach the starship with a minute to spare, but he was going way too fast to enter the hangar, even with the CUTS to synchronize the maneuver.
“Sergeant,” Riley said. “The computer is indicating you aren’t going to make it.”
“I’m aware,” Caleb replied. “Computers aren’t always right.”
“You’re coming in way too hot. You need to slow your approach or you’re going to crash into the hull.”
“Again, I’m aware. Is Governor Stone there?”
“Standby.”
“Sergeant Card,” Stone said a moment later. His voice was hard. Emotionless. “Is there something you want from me?”
“I want to apologize, Governor,” Caleb said. “Orla – ”
“Don’t, Sergeant,” Stone said. “Don’t apologize. And don’t ever say her name. She shouldn’t have been out there. You’re the Guardian. It’s your job to protect this ship. Not hers.”
Caleb almost lapsed in his concentration, the Governor’s sharp words threatening to dig beneath his skin. He pushed back against them. He wasn’t going to apologize for bringing her out there. The drone was destroyed because she was such a good pilot. It had used Caleb to lead her in because it knew it couldn’t hit her without taking her by surprise. It just didn’t expect the weak pilot to have such good aim. No, he wanted to apologize for not seeing the trap sooner and being faster to stop it. He wanted to offer some kind of condolences. He understood Stone was angry and grieving. He wouldn’t hold it against the man. He also wouldn’t let him break him do
wn.
“Yes, sir,” Caleb said.
“Is that it?” Stone asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“That went well,” Flores said a moment later.
“It isn’t the first time.” Not everyone was as understanding as Habib’s husband. “So, Private Flores, you’ve never seen a movie that might give me a clue on how to get out of this mess?”
“Are you kidding? That must have happened in the Star Wars movies at least a dozen times. What you need is space...” She trailed off. “Shit. Alpha, don’t die yet, I have an idea.”
The statement surprised him. “What is it?”
“You need to get in position to enter the main hangar.”
“The main hangar doesn’t open remotely.”
“I know, just do it. Flores out.”
“Flores, there’s not enough time, and there’s not enough air. You can’t make it from the bridge to the hangar in three minutes.”
“Sergeant, it’s too late,” Riley said. “She’s already gone.”
“What does she think she’s doing?”
“She’s trying to save your life.”
He knew that. But how? By sacrificing her own? That wasn’t going to work for him. He was tempted to slow the Dagger down, to alter his vector and move away from the Deliverance. He didn’t want anyone else dying to save his life. It wasn’t worth that much.
He checked his HUD. Two minutes and thirty seconds. He was only a few dozen kilometers from the ship, but he was going much too fast to attempt to get into the smaller hangar in the front of the vessel. His eyes dropped to the main hangar blast doors, nearly ten times the size of the upper hangar, the space beyond the doors almost twenty times as large if not larger.
The space beyond the doors. The area was open. It also had gravity. And, the flow of air leaving the ship would act as friction against him trying to enter. If he could get the angle right, if they could get the doors open… But the doors had to be activated manually, which meant someone would have to be out at the controls. Flores didn’t have the strength to hold on against the pull of the vacuum.
But Washington did, and he was already only a few decks away from the area.
“Mariana, I hope you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” he said. “Okay, Guardians, let’s do this.”
Caleb locked his eyes on the main hangar blast doors, urging the CUTS to direct the Dagger toward it. Once he lined up with it, he could start firing the retro-thrusters and begin the deceleration. As long as they timed things right, he could hopefully get on board.
The seconds ticked by, the Dagger swooping in on the Deliverance, hanging tight against the side of the hull. Debris was still trickling out of the deep scars in the side of the ship, the wounds so heavy it made Caleb question whether getting on board the ship would even matter. There was just as much of a chance the whole thing would burn up trying to get through the thermosphere, the loss of the protective plating around the hull too great to overcome. Still, he’d rather die on the ship than outside of it, with his Guardians instead of by himself.
“Valentine, how do we look for landing?” Caleb said.
“We’re on target,” Riley replied. “As long as the ship holds together I think we’ll be fine.” Her voice was tense enough Caleb could spot the lie. She was trying to convince both of them they were going to make it. “Just worry about yourself, Sergeant.”
“Roger. Do you have eyes on the hangar by any chance?”
“Standby. Klahanie, can you get me a feed from the main hangar? There. Washington is approaching the manual controls. Get ready, Caleb.”
Caleb eyed the blast doors again, sending the Dagger away from the hull and adjusting the velocity, speeding up slightly to make his move. He needed to get in as quickly as possible, and then do his best not to die.
“He’s activating the doors,” Riley announced.
Caleb saw the crack of light spill out from between the blast doors. He kept his gaze fixed on it, watching the heavy slabs slide apart. He checked his HUD. He had less than a minute to get on board and for Washington to seal them in again.
It was going to be close.
He counted the seconds in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. When he hit five, he urged the Dagger forward again, vectoring to the right and taking an off-angle toward the still-opening blast doors. He dropped lower, getting closer to the deck. A sharp tone sounded in his helmet, the CUTS screaming out a collision warning, his HUD flashing red on both sides, showing him the wings weren’t clear.
He cut the thrust, the Dagger sweeping toward the doors. A solid wall of escaping air buffeted into it, causing it to slow, the nose pushed upward. The starfighter slammed into the side of one of the doors, bouncing and rolling as the wings were sheared off, the fuselage tumbling into the gravity of the ship’s floor and dropping to the ground. It continued to roll along the floor, end over end over end, at a sharp angle away from Washington. Restraints tightened around Caleb, holding him secure against the seat as the world rotated around him, the canopy smacking the deck and a spiderweb of cracks forming in the plasti-glass.
It seemed to last forever. The fuselage split in half, the failure throwing his end in a new direction, sending the cockpit spinning like a top across the floor until it finally slammed into the side of a loader and came to a stop.
Caleb hung from the restraints, his head spinning, his body suddenly sore. He tried to look out through the canopy, but there were so many scuffs and cracks it was impossible to see through them. He could hear the motors of the blast doors though. It sounded like they were closing.
He wanted a few minutes to sit there and recover, but he didn’t have any time. The ship was about to hit the thermosphere, and once it touched the ground he would no longer be a Guardian. He wouldn’t have any authority over anything.
He released the restraints, reaching up and pushing against the canopy with his replacement hand. He shoved the top of the cockpit away and then ripped off the CUTS helmet, leaving it aside as he rolled out of the broken starfighter and onto the floor. He stumbled to his feet, nearly collapsing as he realized his ankle was injured.
A big hand wrapped around his arm, holding him up. Caleb turned his head, smiling in response to Washington’s big smile.
“I owe you one,” he said.
Washington exaggerated his nod of reply.
“We need to get to the bridge.”
Washington spread his hands. Why?
“Once we touch the ground, I won’t be able to restrain Doctor Valentine. She’ll literally get away with murder.”
Chapter 51
The Deliverance began to vibrate slightly when it hit the thermosphere and started its final descent to Essex’s surface. Caleb barely had time to notice the shaking and no time to care about it. He and Washington raced across Deck Thirty toward the central lift, hoping the damage to the ship hadn’t rendered it non-functional.
If it had, they would never make it to the bridge in time.
Caleb wasn’t sure how taking action against Riley was going to work out. He didn’t have the proof David claimed was in the ship’s mainframe, at least not yet. He didn’t have anything to go on but a dead man’s tale and his eyewitness of that same dead man’s body floating out into space. He would have to rely on his reputation and his position as Guardian and hope he could access the streams later. He couldn’t wait for them to hit the ground. Once they did, Riley had every right to claim Governance of Metro, and in doing so would be able to claim immunity of sorts. The videos would still be hiding on the ship’s mainframe, but he doubted Riley would ever let him anywhere near them. Even if she didn’t know the clips existed, she was too smart not to play it safe.
They were about to land on a new world. A world they couldn’t guarantee wasn’t completely hostile. A world the AI had claimed would find them enslaved by its current occupants, who he assumed were the aliens that had created both the artificial intelligence and the trife. He wasn’t sure confronting her was g
oing to help anything.
He was sure he couldn’t do nothing. Riley had lied, cheated, and killed her way across the stars. She had imprisoned and murdered innocent people. She had planned to turn the residents of Metro into monsters. It didn’t matter if this was war, or if she had Command’s blessing. It didn’t even matter if the entire colony wound up as slaves to an alien race. She had crossed the line, and she had to meet some form of justice.
They reached the central lift banks with Washington propping Caleb up and helping him keep his weight off his broken ankle. They came to a stop at the shaft, and Caleb tapped on the controls. He breathed a sigh of relief when one of the lifts activated, the cab beginning to drop toward them.
“How long do you think we have?” he asked Washington, who shrugged in response. “Am I making the wrong move?”
Washington shook his head. No.
The cab arrived, and the two Guardians stepped in. Caleb directed the lift back to Deck Six. His body was on fire, the crash reopening his wounds and sending warm blood running down his back beneath the SOS. His shoulder was sore, the muscles strained at the very least and possibly even torn. And of course his ankle was too damaged to stand on. He was lucky to be alive, even if he had only gained a few extra minutes. If the ship landed successfully, there was still no telling what they’d face on the ground.
The lift was on Deck Eight when a loud bang echoed through the ship, so strong it shook the entire shaft and rocked the cab, the lights flashing off and then coming back on. The Deliverance shuddered again, rocking harder than it had before. A loud rumble echoed up from the bottom of the ship.
“Landing thrusters,” Caleb said, guessing at the source of the sound. While the Deliverance used an anti-gravity sled to get off the ground on Earth, the sled was meant to stay behind. Instead, the ship used massive heavy thrusters to control the descent, drawing on more power than they possessed before they had connected the alien energy unit.